Double or Nothing
by Elven Heart993
Summary: The war is over. Voldemort is vanquished. But George has been left to face a greater, more terrifying enemy…life without his twin. Rated T for angst. Just to be on the safe side.
1. Gone

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter One**

**Gone**

_**Summary- **__The war is over. Voldemort is vanquished. But George has been left to face a greater, more terrifying enemy…life without his twin._

He could never again be the same after that night…never, he could barely look at anything that wasn't wooden or cloth for fear of seeing…him…George twitched silently on his bed. Half lidded eyes staring across the room at the dust gathering bed sheets. He ignored the rapid knocking and frantic whispers of "Georgie?" from his mother on the other side of the door. Occasionally his father or Ginny would join Molly Weasley in her efforts but that proved no more effective.  
The room was quite small for two people but somehow George and his brother had made it just the right size for the both of them and their inventions. Now however it seemed far too large, far too empty.  
Steadily George rolled onto his back and allowed a yawn to escape as he slipped into uneasy sleep.

_A dull, throbbing pain struck him suddenly as he waited apprehensively at one of the secret entrances of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He whirled around thinking he had been hit but no one stood there, no Death Eater firing curses. George's heart beat painfully loud, one of his family was definitely in danger…well, more danger. He knew he couldn't stay, he was of no use there and so he slipped through the door, catapulting into Lee Jordan with a loud cry. Each recognizing the other they leapt back to their feet. "Need a hand?" His best friend after Fred grinned._

George smirked and nodded "Cheers, Lee."  
Instinctively they grabbed at the walls as an explosion shook the castle. It was then the dull pain ebbed away and a fierce tug on his heart struck with force. He had never felt a pain so strong, including when he lost his ear to Snape, it was as though his being was being literally ripped in two. No. No, no, no…that couldn't….it couldn't happen…no….

"George? Are you ok?" Lee spun around as he, unaware he had doubled over, straightened.

The Weasley hesitated "Yeah….fine I think." He said after a moment.

_The scene faded into inky blackness for a moment and then changed. He was bedraggled and bloody but in good enough shape as he and Lee Jordan entered the Great Hall that was now lined with bodies. The sight was horrible, enough to make anybody sick, Lee let out a cry and ran in one direction, leaving George to face the worst alone.  
The entire Weasley clan plus Harry and Hermione, distinguishable from a distance due to their flaming red hair was gathered about. His mother was sobbing violently, spread out over a figure lying unmoving on the ground. His father knelt beside her with one arm around her and the other hand over his face as he shook silently, Ginny had buried her face into Ron's shoulder, and Ron looked paler than George had ever seen him, paler than when Fred had transfigured his teddy bear into a giant spider when the twins were just five and Ron three, paler than when he vomited slugs. Harry was holding Hermione, tears slipping down his face silently while she sobbed into his shoulder. Fleur and Bill were crying into each other's shoulders. Big, strong Bill Weasley was crying…Charlie stood back a little, silver tears running down his freckled face and Percy was rocking backwards and forwards on his feet, both hands over his face. And Fred….Fred…Fred? He wasn't there. He wasn't with his family…no…they couldn't be crying over him. Because Fred was only sleeping or playing a cruel joke, any minute now he would sit up and smirk triumphantly._

George found himself running, Percy, Ginny and Bill had lifted their heads, Percy's expression was one of total failure and devastation as he watched his brother sprinting madly toward them. No one said anything as the twin dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain that went shooting up his thighs as he did so. His parents raised their faces and his mother erupted in a fresh ocean of tears. George knew now as he stared down as the body of his twin that he had literally been torn in two. A choking, strangled cry left his throat and tears filled his eyes, stinging as they refused to fall. As if in a trance, George reached out a finger and brushed it over his brother's cheek withdrawing it with a gasp. He was so cold. George's bright blue eyes stared into the identical ones of Fred, the light had left his twin but the shadow of a smirk remained frozen on his face as he gazed unseeing at his brother, silently George reached out and closed the sightless blue eyes. He doubled over the body, dry sobs hacking out like a sort of cough from his throat.  
"No….no…please…Fred!" He lifted his brother's forehead to his own, begging Fred to wake up, to grin and say 'I'm only joking!' But it wouldn't happen and George couldn't understand why Fred was playing such games. It wasn't any fun.  
But still, the tears wouldn't come, he wanted to cry, wanted to run and hide for the first time in his life, but he couldn't. Percy…Percy had been with Fred. Percy, who he had just forgiven and trusted,  
had failed miserably.

George lifted his shaking face up and slowly lowered Fred back to the cold stone. He looked up at his elder brother.  
"You were with him…" he muttered. "You could have stopped this…you didn't do anything!" He was standing now, trembling violently from head to toe and staring accusingly at Percy who looked back at him devastatingly, tear trails glistening on his face.  
"George…"  
"It's all YOUR FAULT!" George shouted, attracting the attention of his entire grief-stricken family.  
"I couldn't do any-anything…it was too fast…" Percival defended half-heartedly, ripping off his horn rimmed glasses.  
"But it was FRED who died, not you, Percy, not YOU!"  
His family all wore equally horrified expressions as George, in a fit of grief, allowed those words to cross his lips. His mother shrieked and clapped her hands over her mouth, trembling all the more.  
George felt himself losing control, he knew it was unfair…but his twin was dead, half of himself was dead and Percy had been there to stop it. Before he bothered to stop himself, before he was aware of what he was doing he had struck out at his brother sending Percy staggering back, nursing his jaw and doing nothing to retaliate. George wasn't stopping; he was too hyped up on grief to stop his vicious beating. Only when his father and Charlie had leapt forward and seized his arms did he allow himself to slacken.  
"George! Percy couldn't help Fred! Stop this!" Charlie's voice had never sounded so watery, so distant, George vaguely registered as he went limp in their grip and was hesitantly released.  
Percy was watching him with one blackening eye and an expression somewhere between pity, grief and apology but George paid no attention as he once again dropped shaking beside Fred.  
He wasn't dead. Fred couldn't die…he wouldn't leave his family…it was Fred. Fred who ran an extremely successful shop with his twin, Fred who once transfigured Ron's teddy bear into a giant spider because he broke his toy broomstick, Fred who had tested out their Ton Tongue Toffee on Harry's cousin, Dudley. Fred who had been so panicked when George lost his ear and so angry that they were no longer identical that he seriously considered cursing his own ear off…he couldn't die…

George's eyes snapped open, for the few weeks that had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts and Fred's death he had not dreamt, only relived an experience he never imagined so painful. His family had given up trying to get him to leave his room and sent food up to his room at mealtimes. He only emerged to use the bathroom and even then he often apparated back and forth.  
George's eyes came to rest once again on Fred's dust-covered old bed; still he had not shed a tear for his lost brother. George felt wrong, the bond between identical twins was stronger than any other, especially between him and his brother and yet he could not cry.

He flicked his wand idly at the curtains that had lain unopened for days and they obediently opened. George rolled off his bed and stared out through the glass, the sun had barely set over the fields and George could see the makeshift Quidditch field where he and Fred had often practised or played two-on-two against Harry and Ron. But that was not why he had let the sun into his room, no; he gazed into the glass at his reflection. Only it wasn't his reflection he saw, it was Fred he saw, smiling sadly through the glass at his twin. Sometimes George could swear he was going mad and the only thing that made him realise that it really was Fred looking back at him was the absence of the dark hole in the side of Fred's head. The reflection he saw gazing back had two ears.

There were days at a time George would not look at anything even the slightest bit reflective in fear of seeing Fred's sad expression as he watched his twin sink deeper and deeper. There were other days, such as this one that George could not stop, he was developing an addiction.  
Fred even spoke to him sometimes, told him he was isolating himself too much and to let their family back into his life, while he still had one to let them into.  
"Are you really there? Or am I really going mad?" George had asked his late twin one time.  
Fred had grinned then, a true Fred-like grin, identical to George's and replied "We've always been mad, bro, the both of us." He wouldn't answer the question wholly.  
More days passed in this manner, George's devastation never subsided only grew, the longer he was without his twin, the harder it became. Before Fred's death they had never been separate for more than a matter of hours. He couldn't see how much he was hurting his family, but he knew they felt like they had lost both twins.

One day came when George again sought Fred in the reflective surface of a mirror; he was there, where George's reflection should have been Fred was instead.  
"I can't come anymore, George…you need our family, they need their son back, time to stop playing double or nothing." He smiled sadly out of the mirror at his other half who stared back at him, devastated.  
"No…Fred…you can't leave again!"  
"Let it go, mate." Fred spoke softly from the mirror.  
George shook his head, the tears sprung to his eyes painfully. "Fred…"  
"Let it go, you'll be ok." Never in his life had George heard his twin's voice sound so sad, so distant and knew his must sound the same.  
"I can't. I don't-I can't!"  
"I know, mate…but you have to. I'm gone. Six feet under…and I can't come back."  
George hardly registered the tears as they began to slide down his cheeks for the first time since his twin's death, nor the shaking of his body as the full force of Fred's death hit him.  
"Till we meet again, Georgie, until then….goodbye."  
George held the mirror in his hands, wondering if Fred would actually leave…he sat there silently, staring at his twin for a good five minutes before he realised….

The face staring out of the mirror…only had one ear.

His identical twin, his best friend, his partner-in-crime, the other half of his being….was gone…finally, after a month, his body wracked with the force of the built up sobs and hiccups escaping his throat. The mirror slipped through his fingers as he brought them to his flaming hair and shattered on the wooden floor. But peering through his fingers George could have sworn he saw Fred's sad blue eyes watching him in a shard of glass, a lone tear sliding down his twin's identical face.


	2. Nightmares

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Two**

**Nightmares**

"_Blimey, Fred, this is crazy!"  
"Yeah I know. But what's the point in being identical twins if you don't look the same?" Fred grinned, turning his wand over in his fingers._

_George's eyes widened, of all the stupid, reckless things they had done this ALMOST took the cake. "Yeah but…cursing your own ear off? You're completely mad."  
Fred shrugged and said "We've always been mad, bro, the both of us." He turned to the mirror and then examined the hole in the side of his twin's head carefully. "So…should I get rid of the left one so we're identical? Or the right so we're mirror images, oh Great and Mighty Holey One?"_

_George had to laugh at that. "Come on, mate. You were so horrified when Snape cursed off mine and now you're doing your own?"  
"You wanna do it? You'll have better aim…but then you are lopsided, I'll probably lose half my head."_

_George narrowed his eyes "I still look better than you. Anyway, you better not do it before the wedding, Mum will go off her head."_

_Fred sighed. "True. Come on, best go help Dad set up the marquee." _

_The twins smirked identically; George whacked his brother upside his flaming head as he left the room "You're a complete idiot you know."_

_Fred just laughed as he left the room "I don't like it when people know which of us is who! It's fun to fool people."_

"_I'll bet people still confuse us."_

_He shrugged "Probably."_

_They descended several flights of stairs, clad in half their dress robes and half their pyjamas. George paused at the bottom of the stairs and raised a hand to the bandage over his missing ear for a moment. Blinking in an attempt to steady himself as a wave of dizziness struck.  
Fred turned; a glare already fixed on his face. _

"_You are NOT alright. That curse really did affect your mind."  
"It did not!" he insisted. "I just get dizzy sometimes. You would too if you had your ear sliced off in mid air."_

"_George. You're acting weird. Your temper is a heck of a lot shorter. Can you blame me for looking out for my little brother?"  
_

_His twin scoffed, Fred was way too worried about him after all, it was only his ear. It wasn't as though he had lost a hand or a foot, all it meant was that he couldn't 'ear as well. _

"_You're two minutes older and I'm perfectly fine, Fred! Stop it." He growled. It was an extremely rare event for twins, Weasley twins, to fight or even to disagree a little. Something had to be very wrong to cause them to verbally attack one another._

_Fred's eyes darkened and without another word he swept out the front door towards the pile of marquee that lay on the ground, his red dressing gown billowing out like a cloak around him. _

_George, uneasily feeling as though he were being watched, turned slowly to his left where Hermione, Fleur and little Gabrielle sat around the kitchen table staring at him. _

"_What?" He grunted and followed his twin out of the Burrow. _

_Fred didn't speak much to him until their mother ushered everyone, specifically Bill and Fleur, upstairs to change and wash up before the wedding. She had insisted that all the boys force their hair into a presentable standard to be approved by herself before they were permitted to leave the house._

_Naturally the twins' dress robes were identical in style and differed only in the colour of the waistcoats and suspenders, George's being purple and Fred's yellow. _

_George examined the dark hole where his left ear should have been. It was the weirdest feeling to actually be able to stick his fingers inside his head. Kind of disgusting really. _

"_Better put that bandage back on…you'll scare away all the Veela cousins. Not that you wouldn't scare them even if you had both ears." Fred smirked, looking up from attaching his suspenders.  
George looked around "You're talking. Bout time I should think."_

"_Hey I've been talking all day, just not to you." Fred sighed and stood, "Sorry about that, it's just you're my twin and when Dad and I arrived and you weren't outside…well, I thought you were…I knew you were in trouble." He trailed off quietly._

_George sighed "You still don't need to be a right git." He clapped his brother on the shoulder, all was forgiven "I'm not an invalid remember, Fred."_

_Fred grinned "Yeah I know. Here…" he tossed George his cloak, slipping into his own "Mum'll be fretting like-"_

"_RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! TUCK YOUR SHIRT IN! FRED, GEORGE GET DOWN HERE YOU BOYS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE MARQUEE BY NOW!"  
"-mad…" They finished in unison as Mrs Weasley's shrieks dulled to a roar below and with that they made their way downstairs._

Molly's angry cries had subsided by the time the twins reached the foot of the stairs. Ron shifted uncomfortably, looking as though he was barely resisting the urge to scratch an itch he'd rather his mother not see. Harry's hair had been flattened somewhat and he stood beside Ron, watching in amusement as Mrs Weasley fussed over Bill who managed to resist her insistence of a haircut.  
"Oh my darling boy, so handsome…I can't believe my little William is getting married…" she choked out on the verge of premature tears.  
"He's hardly little." George scoffed.

"_Just think, mate." Fred flung an arm around Bill's neck "Only about an hour left of being a bachelor."  
"Yeah, you won't have any fun anymore, Billy." George grinned slyly, earning a stifled chuckle from Harry and Ron both of whom promptly feigned innocence as Molly glared at them. _

_She whacked both the twins upside the head firmly "That's enough vulgarity from you! It's his wedding day!"_

_Bill laughed and winked at his brothers "Like you two would know anything about fun."_

"_He pretends to." They spoke together, elbowing each other._

xxxXxxx

George awoke with a start to find himself on the couch in the living room, the flames in the fireplace had died to glowing embers and he guessed it must have been at least two in the morning. Someone, probably his mother or Ginny, had left a blanket over him. He stared silently into the coals for several minutes; he was less unkempt now than he had been the first few weeks following the funeral. He was clean shaven as he hadn't been in days and couldn't even remember shaving though he wouldn't put it past his mother to have done it for him.

He flicked his eyes to the stairs for a moment as someone descended, their footsteps muffled by a pair of slippers, George shifted his eyes back to the fireplace and pointed his wand at it.

"Incendio." He muttered and the fire re-lit itself as Percy entered the room, bleary eyed and messy haired. He had moved back into the Burrow after the Battle of Hogwarts, there was no way he could leave his family again.

George sat up slightly and drew his legs in toward his chest, not saying a word as Percy sat beside him, perched on the edge of the cushion.

"Are they getting better?" he asked after several minutes of silence.  
George shook his head slowly "No."

"You should talk to Mum about these nightmares…she'll have something to help."

He scoffed "I don't think so; like she doesn't have enough to deal with…I'm not burdening her with more of my crap."

Percy sighed and waited, much as George didn't like to talk about his grief, he always seemed to tell him. Percy was the only one he would tell, even talk to at all some days. Something none of his family would have expected.

"They're getting worse…every time I close my eyes, I see it again. A different way. I know it's not how it happened but I can't stop seeing it …I've run out of noble deaths, now they're just horrible… …"

Percy bit his lip, thinking he would perhaps regret this later but flicked his wand, sending two glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky flying in from the kitchen. Silently he poured out two glasses and handed one to George. "Here."

"You think alcohol's gonna help?" He asked sceptically but accepted it and downed it in one, smacking his lips as the liquor burned his throat. "YOU, Percival Ignatius Weasley, are willingly giving me alcohol?"

Percy shrugged and sipped his own beverage "It might help you sleep without nightmares."

George laughed mirthlessly "Now that's hardly likely…Perce…I don't think anything can help."

He would never tell anyone that he had seen Fred's face in his reflection that Fred had spoken to him and left him. He would especially never tell anyone that he still did see Fred sometimes. But Fred never spoke and disappeared as suddenly as he appeared, like he was purposely distancing himself from his twin. George knew that was exactly what he was doing. Damn…he really was going mad.

"George?"

He blinked, completely surprised to find the half empty bottle of Firewhisky in his hands, his glass full to the brim. "Hell…"

Percy's pried the bottle from his fingers "George…"

The twin levitated his glass back into the kitchen, his hand trembling violently. What was happening to him? A loud smash made the both of them snap their faces toward the kitchen.

George rose, muttering a few choice words. "Go back to bed, Percy. I'm alright." He said, moving into the kitchen to clean up the glass and spilled whisky.

Behind him, his elder brother watched concernedly, pretending not to hear the quaver in George's voice as he slowly began to head back upstairs, making sure the Firewhisky was safely hidden.

Having cleared up the broken glass with a wave of his wand, doing all he could to keep his hand steady, George had no desire to go back upstairs. Not when that room held so many reminders of Fred wherever he looked. He lowered himself slowly back onto the couch, staring at the fire and cursing himself for allowing himself to have drunk half a bottle of Firewhisky without even realising it. Within moments he had slipped into unwelcome dreams again.

xxxXxxx

_Curses flew in all directions, predominantly red and green streaks flying past. He stood alone, or as good as, Percy duelled another behind him. _

_A cry of "Crucio!" pierced the air and a terrible scream of agony ripped from the throat of the young man as he crumpled, writhing on the stone. _

_Again and again the curse was repeated, with more relish and evil mirth each time. Again and again the scream pierced the air, more agony and fear echoed every time. _

_A delighted cackle came from above the figure as he twitched on the ground, his fingers grasping for his wand that lay only a few centimetres from his outstretched hand. _

_A foot cracked down on that wand and then on the fingers, the sickening crunches audible, the attacker stood over the writhing body, wild, ebony hair whipping around her almost demonic face as her wand was brought down in a slashing movement. Immediately a large gash appeared across his chest, blood spurting from the wound as the body shook, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as though he had lost all voice. _

"_You can thank your Potions Master for that one." Lestrange's sickening voice cackled, laced heavily with mirth. _

"_Poor, foolish, BLOOD-TRAITOR of a BOY!" she screamed and tore off the sleeve of the dying wizard, revealing a rapidly paling forearm. In one swift movement the dark wand was stabbed into the exposed flesh and the Weasley found his voice enough to cry out desperately and pathetically as the words 'blood-traitor' were carved into his greyish skin, what blood he had left oozing from the wounds. _

_A booted foot on the gash in his chest, a sickening smirk, one final expression of defiance and fear in his wide blue eyes, a blinding flash of green…_

xxxXxxx

George shot up, dripping with sweat, an agonised scream tearing from his throat, ending abruptly as he toppled off the couch onto the wooden floor. He lay there, face down for several moments, trembling and reliving the worst nightmare he had ever had.

He could not distinguish between sweat and tears as they slipped over his face and onto the boards.

He vaguely registered a "Mum! Dad!" as Ginny stumbled into the living room, followed closely by the footsteps of the other inhabitants of the Burrow.

George found himself being rolled over and lifted into a sitting position gently by his father, though he could hardly distinguish the face behind the tears that stung his eyes.

"Georgie? George?"

He couldn't hold it in another moment. A moment later and the twin was sobbing into his father's shoulder, great wracking sobs that struck his chest with the force of a sledge hammer and then his mother was there, rubbing his back like a child, tears sliding down her own, round face, and then a firm hand was on his shoulder and he peered out of one bleary, blue eye over his father's shoulder. But it wasn't Percy, it wasn't Ron and it certainly wasn't Ginny. It was a person whose hands and tear stained face were identical to his own, a person who his parents couldn't see or feel, a person who he knew would never really leave him.


	3. Why?

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Three **

**Why?**

It was getting better, he pondered, at least he thought it was, every time it felt better something would send him spiralling back into his own little bubble. He could at least carry on conversations and give the illusion he was feeling alright. George smirked at himself as he slipped into his chair at the dinner table, it would be as close as to a family dinner as they would get for a while. Ginny would be going back to Hogwarts the following day to complete her education now that the school was functional again and Percy and Arthur would be returning to work at the Ministry under the new regime of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Bill and Fleur presented themselves, both looking as though they were about to burst with happiness, particularly Bill as they slipped into their places at the long table. Molly and Arthur on either end, Ginny nearest her mother and beside Ron, following Ron was George and beside George was a vacant seat. On the opposite side, Bill sat beaming beside his father, Fleur on his other side and Percy beside her, with another vacant seat beside him.  
Molly smiled sadly over the table, since Charlie had gone back to Romania and his dragons this was as whole as her family would ever be. It would never again be complete. A pitcher of orange juice floated past, filling the eight glasses and placing itself back in the centre of the table as the Weasleys began to help themselves to chicken. They ate in silence for about a minute before Fleur and Bill exchanged excited glances and the former tapped her glass with a fork.  
"My husband and I would like to make an announcement." She spoke, her French accent highlighting her joy.  
"Yes. Fleur and I…." he paused "We're gonna have a baby!"  
The whole table erupted in shrieks and cries of joy and "Congratulations!"

Mrs Weasley shot from her chair and ran to embrace the couple  
"Grandchildren! Oh how wonderful! My Billy…a father!" She looked as though she would start weeping any moment and ignored Bill's silent pleas to release the choking grip she had on him.  
George grinned "That's fantastic! And fast…"  
His mother released her son "Don't be so vulgar, honestly, Fred-"

And then the whole room turned upside down, silence fell as suddenly as if a blanket had been thrown over and snuffed out a light. All eyes were on George. His father looked as though he had just been slapped in the face at his wife's slip up, her eyes refilled with tears and she clapped a hand over her mouth "George…I'm-I'm sorry, Georgie..."

"It's fine…" he muttered, laying his fork back onto his plate. He did not appreciate the expressions of horror and pity on his family's faces as they stared at him like they expected him to spontaneously combust. "Really, I'm fine."  
One by one, following Ron's lead they all dropped their eyes back down to their plates and resumed eating in silence.  
"This is stupid…" George muttered "Don't stop on my account."  
"Honey, do you want to talk?"

He looked up then, and glared at his mother, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm "Yeah, yeah I do. I definitely wanna talk, am I that obvious?"  
"George, don't talk to your mother like that!" His father berated.  
"She only wants to help you." Fleur spoke softly, as though consoling a small child.

George only grunted and stood, muttering under his breath. "Bathroom. Oh, and feel free to talk behind my back too, I love it when you lot do that." And with that he made his way upstairs without another glance toward his family.

He had every intention to go to the bathroom and he did locking the door behind him and hoping that no one would come to try to get him to 'talk about his problems'. He leant against the door for a moment. Mum had called him Fred, she still confused them even now. He stepped over to the basin and ran the cold water until it was icy. He splashed it violently over his face, he thought he was alright. At least he had not retreated to alcohol to solve his problems. He lifted his face to peer into the mirror and glared at his reflection. "Why did I have to be your twin?" He muttered.

xxxXxxx

"_Fred? Fred?" Fred opened one eye blearily. "Come on! Get up!"  
"What's your problem?" he grumbled as his twin wrenched off his blankets, then he remembered, today was the day! He rolled off his bed at once and grinned at George.  
"It's September!" George grinned excitedly "Come on! Mum's said she'll make us a special breakfast to say goodbye."  
"Mum's special breakfasts are the same as her normal breakfasts." Fred smirked, slipping on his slippers and following George downstairs.  
Molly looked up as the twins entered the kitchen and smiled fondly at their excitement, after all, it wasn't every day you went to Hogwarts for the first time. The three older Weasley children already sat around the table, all digging into their breakfast. Seventeen year-old Bill smiled as the twins slipped into their places "Bet you're looking forward to today, hey?"  
Fred and George nodded enthusiastically and dug into sausages and bacon hungrily. Charlie, in his fifth year of school grinned cheekily and turned to thirteen year-old Percy.  
"Bet you're not looking forward to today, Perce?"  
The twins exchanged a grin that could only be described as evil:  
"Yeah, you'll have to deal with us for almost a whole year without Mum and Dad." Fred chuckled.  
Percy sniffed and pushed his horn rimmed glasses further us his nose  
"I'll have you know that I am more than capable of dealing with two, first-year troublemakers."  
"That's funny because-"  
"You can't deal with us here."  
"Now, boys, I expect you to behave yourselves at school and learn some maturity." Their mother said firmly, furiously attacking Bill's hair with a brush; he yelped and dodged her attacks until she at last gave up. Only then did Bill emerge from beneath the table. "Honestly, William Arthur Weasley…" she sighed and whisked away the empty plates.  
Arthur Weasley lay aside his copy of the Daily Prophet and stood, flipping his cloak around his shoulders. He ruffled the twins' hair affectionately  
"Good luck today boys. Don't put too many toes out of- I mean any!" He hastened to correct himself at the stern expression on his wife's face "Don't put any toes out of line."  
With that he winked at Fred and George, kissed his wife on the cheek, waved to his other sons and stepped into the fireplace._

_xxxXxxx_

"_Mummy! I want to go to Hogwarts too…" Ron whined, clutching his mother's hand with one of his own and staring jealously at his brothers as Charlie and Percy disappeared through the enchanted barrier.  
"Don't worry, Ronnie. We'll send you owls!" Fred promised with a wide grin on his face as he looked at his twin. "Let's go together."  
George nodded "1-"  
"2-"  
"3!" They cried in unison and rushed toward the barrier, Fred pulling up a little so as not to hit the side of the wall as George went through. Molly sighed and looked down at Ronnie on her left and her only daughter on her right.  
"Come on then, best go see them off." She said, gripping their hands tighter and marched straight through the barrier with her children in tow._

_xxxXxxx_

"_You're gonna be in Slytherin, all the trouble you stir up." George grinned as they slowly made their way down the corridor looking for a compartment and dragging their trunks behind them.  
"Ha, you're my twin if I'm in Slytherin then you will be too." Fred quipped back "There's one."  
They peered through the window into an almost empty compartment, whose only two inhabitants were two dark haired boys, one an older boy who looked about fourteen with a slight overbite. The other, who looked like a first-year like the twins, had a pointed chin and dark eyes.  
Fred slid the door open "Can we sit here?"  
The younger boy said nothing only stared out the window but the older one sneered rather nastily and nodded. Fred and George exchanged glances.  
"Thanks." George replied, somewhat uneasily and he and Fred pushed their trunks beneath the seats and slowly sat beside the younger boy. They both pretended not to notice the older boy's sneer as he took in the second hand robes and trunks the twins possessed.  
"First-years?" He asked after several minutes.  
They nodded in unison "Fred and George Weasley."  
The greasy haired boy sneered again:  
"Marcus Flint." He said "This here's Adrian Pucey, he's new too."  
The young boy turned his face to look the twins up and down.  
"What house do you think you'll be in?" he asked.  
"Our whole family's been in Gryffindor. Hate to break tradition." Fred replied.  
Flint chortled "Everyone knows the only decent house is Slytherin, my whole family's been in it, Pucey's too. You boys better hope you do break tradition."  
George frowned and nudged his brother.  
"Fred, let's go…" he muttered.  
Fred shrugged him off "There's not a wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin." He stood up boldly, a gesture that made the fourth-year burst into laughter. He sobered quickly and stood himself, a little less than a head taller than Fred.  
"Weasley, huh? Can't miss any of your lot, you're what, the fourth and fifth ones? Pathetic…"  
George had stood by now too, glaring fiercely up into Flint's face. In the corner, Pucey snickered nastily as the older boy continued, obviously slightly shocked that he wasn't intimidating the Weasley twins.  
"Can't even afford new robes?"  
A loud BANG shattered the tension as Charlie threw the compartment door open.  
"Flint."  
"Weasley."  
Flint's sneer vanished as the fifth-year stalked into the crowding compartment.  
Both Fred and George looked on the verge of leaping at the Slytherin and pummelling his face in, despite his obvious height. Charlie gripped Fred by the shoulder and pushed him out.  
"Come on. You shouldn't have anything to do with these guys." He muttered, never moving his eyes from Flint. As the twins heaved their trunks out from beneath the seats Marcus took the opportunity to whip out his wand from the billowing sleeves of his robes and aimed it at Charlie.  
"I'd watch it if I were you, Weasley…" He smirked, and then pointed his wand at Fred's trunk "Diffindo!" Immediately the wood of the trunk split in the corner sending several books falling to the ground.  
Charlie snarled "Depulso!" Before Flint could protect himself the spell sent him crashing forcefully into the window of the compartment.  
George, who had already been ahead of his brothers turned and ran back "What happened?"  
"He broke my trunk…" Fred muttered sourly, examining the hole in the wood and gathering up the spilled belongings. Charlie kept his wand trained on Flint for a moment before slamming the door closed and kneeling beside his brother's trunk.  
"Gits. The whole lot of 'em." He muttered, placing a hand on Fred's shoulder.  
"It's easy to fix though. Here…reparo…"_ _the gash began to reseal itself and was whole again in seconds.  
"Thanks." Fred muttered and returned his books to the trunk.  
Charlie frowned.  
"Whatever you do, don't have anything to do with Slytherins, particularly Flint, eh? I gotta go, fair warning, Slytherins don't much like Weasleys." He winked and headed back down the train, leaving the twins.  
George heaved up one side of his trunk and began to drag it down the corridor while behind him Fred did the same. After only a few moments George heard a sniff, he dropped his trunk and turned around.  
"Fred…it's not that bad."  
His twin didn't look up at him he was too busy trying to blink away the tears in his eyes. He kicked himself for crying, he was eleven for crying out loud. He shouldn't cry just because some git had split his trunk. George was next to him in a second  
"It's not that bad." He said again, quieter this time.  
Fred nodded and looked up "Why do they hate our family, George? We're good people."  
"Yeah, we are. Even Percy's a good bloke…"  
"Then why do they hate us?" Fred didn't understand and he knew George didn't either; all they had known the past eleven years was their family, a loving, unprejudiced family and it was so different to be among people who may or may not like them. Who may jeer at them just because they were poor and couldn't afford the luxuries of other wizarding families.  
George smiled sadly and slipped an arm over his brother's shoulders  
"I'm sure it'll get better, we'll be in Gryffindor and no one will laugh there. They've had three other Weasley kids before us. You'll see, mate."  
Fred nodded again and wiped his eyes and cheeks on his sleeve. "Let's keep going." He smiled slightly, nudging George's trunk with his toe. George grinned and lifted his trunk._

_xxxXxxx_

George blinked and splashed his face again to clear his mind. Not a minute ago he had suddenly despised being born a twin, despised Fred for not being born two years earlier instead of two minutes. But he knew he wouldn't have given being a twin up for anything, ever. Even now.  
He glanced in the mirror once more and again he saw Fred in it, smiling a little.  
_That's why you had to be my twin. Because I couldn't have done anything without you.  
_George took a step back as the words echoed in his head. Had he put them there? He was thoroughly convinced now that he was losing it. Because Fred had left him, in body when he died and then in spirit when he told him he couldn't come and stay in the reflection anymore.

But, George knew, Fred would always be there, a comfort when he cried and fell into his darkest moments, an assurance when he was unsure.  
The former twin's eyes darkened, the normally bright blue became an almost cobalt shade as he drew back his fist and brought it forward.  
Shattering the mirror.


	4. Shadow

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Four**

**Shadow**

A loud crash sounded from the bathroom, Molly made to rise, looking up worriedly. "I'll get him, Mum, stay there." Bill stood, gesturing for his mother to sit, she did so only reluctantly.

George winced, and cradled his right hand close to his stomach trying to pry out the shards of glass that had embedded themselves between his knuckles. Breaking the mirror with his fist was possibly one of the stupidest things he had ever done without Fred. He snapped his face towards the locked door as a firm knock sounded from the opposite side.  
"George? George, open the door. I'm not trying to get you to talk I promise." Bill's voice sounded, muffled by the wood.  
George only grunted and turned back to his original task. He yelped and swore in pain as he attempted to draw a particularly large shard stained in crimson blood from between his right ring and middle fingers.  
"George, what happened?" Bill sighed in annoyance and pointed his wand at the door which swung inwards a second later revealing his brother.  
"What the hell did you do?"  
"Broke a mirror." George grunted.  
"With your fist?" the oldest son thwacked George over the head "What do you think you're doing? Being a right git is what!"  
George blinked at him silently for a moment and ripped the glass from his trembling hand with a stifled cry of pain. William bit his lip, and grabbed his brother's wounded hand.  
"You idiot!" He sighed and added in a gentler voice "Why'd you break the mirror, George?"  
He pried more glass from George's hand and pointed his wand at the blood, muttering a few words under his breath. Seconds later the blood slowed to a trickle and the cuts began to mend themselves, George breathing through his teeth, shrugged.  
"Dunno…thanks."  
"You really hurt Mum back there."  
"Damn it, Bill! You said you weren't gonna try to get me to talk!" George snapped, wrenching his hand back.  
"I'm not. But you need to stop treating your family like dirt, it's not Mum's fault." Bill said patiently, being the eldest was an advantage sometimes, he had grown up with six younger siblings, and he knew how to deal with them when they got difficult. Unless he was in on the fun, but this wasn't fun.  
"Do you think I meant what I said? Cause I didn't. Let me go." George's blue eyes narrowed as Bill gripped his wrist.  
"Let. Me. Go, Bill."  
"George. This is getting serious. If you're not gonna talk, at least listen to me."  
George said nothing and made to leave the room, wincing as his hand knocked the side of the basin. Bill did not let him go.  
"You need help. You need to let people help you. Do you think you're fooling anyone by putting on a brave face when they're looking?"  
The twin growled "Bill…shut it."  
His brother frowned, determined to make the younger man see sense.  
"I won't, not until you see reason and stop treating everyone like bat bogeys…"  
"I said. Shut it!" And with that George wrenched his hand from his brother's grip and stormed out of the room, making no effort to close the door in his brother's face quietly.

Bill stood in the small bathroom for several minutes; he sighed dejectedly and flicked his wand at the shattered glass which reformed themselves back into a mirror. He cast a glance into the mended item and wiped away the blood before leaning forward and thumping his head on the door.

"George…"

xxxXxxx

Fleur looked up from assisting her mother-in-law set the dishes washing as Bill re -entered the room. He shook his head sadly, his brother had still not descended the stairs. He hugged his mother affectionately.  
"George doesn't mean anything he says." He muttered and kissed his wife on the side of her head.  
"What was that crashing?" Fleur asked, concernedly.  
"He broke a mirror…"  
Molly held a hand to her mouth, she was losing George, she was losing another son and she knew it.  
"Mum, you need to keep him busy. He's not coping." Bill said seriously.  
"He seemed to be doing better…" she protested "It doesn't seem right to put him to work."  
"He's no better than he was the day Fred died. If anything he's worse, he needs to do something to stop him dwelling on it."  
"But…"  
"Mum! He didn't say anything, but there's no mistaking how deep his depression is beginning to sink. He can't look at himself because he's afraid of seeing Fred. Why do you think he broke the mirror?"  
"Bill! Don't talk that way!"  
"If he doesn't get help…he'll….I don't know what he'll do but it'll be drastic."

"I don't need help."

Bill, Fleur and Molly turned as George entered, his eyes set in determination.  
"George. Oh my boy…" his mother rushed over to him, catching sight of the new cuts on his right hand. "Are you alright?"  
"Yeah, 'm fine…" he muttered "Sorry, I didn't mean what I said. But I **don't **need help, Bill."  
His brother's eyes were full of an unexplainable emotion as they looked at each other, silently pleading for George to live again.

"I'll be fine, if you all just let me deal with it."  
With that he smiled slightly at Fleur and murmured a "Congratulations again." Then turned and left the kitchen.

xxxXxxx

He was walking, toward the makeshift Quidditch pitch and the old broom shed. He didn't even know why, he just had to get away from it all. His family was suffocating him, though they rarely spent time with him anymore, he had distanced himself too far for them to try.  
Ginny had gone back to Hogwarts so that was one less person to fuss and talk about him behind his back, Percy and Dad weren't home enough to do so but Mum had been overbearing. Bill popped around often too, bearing news of Fleur's pregnancy and he had started to become just like Molly, only less extreme.  
George stopped and flopped down onto his back in the centre of the field, glowering darkly at the bright grass as though it was offending him by being such a bright green when his world was only dark.  
The voice of Fred in his head hadn't returned since that day in the bathroom and nor had his reflection. George had begun to become hatefully dependant on the memory of Fred and reached out often to see if he would come, if he would comfort him during the long nights he cried himself to sleep. But he never came.  
'Do you hate me now?' He thought to himself, not really expecting a reply, and like he thought, none came.

xxxXxxx

"_Blimey mate, George? George?" _

_George's eyes opened slowly to look into the concerned faces of the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.  
He frowned, puzzled  
"Wha-?" He glanced around the white room and he knew he was in the hospital wing. Then everything came flooding back. He lifted a hand to his head and winced as he felt a large lump swelling on his forehead.  
"Thought we lost you there for a minute." Charlie grinned "Thank goodness we had Oliver just below to catch you.  
Fred wasn't looking directly at his twin. "I'm so sorry!"  
And then George remembered the bludger, remembered Fred slogging it with considerable force and then crying out in alarm as it flew toward George. Then everything had gone black.  
He sat up slightly and ignored his twin who looked thoroughly ashamed of himself.  
"Who won?"  
"Charlie got the Snitch but we only just beat Ravenclaw." Oliver Wood explained "After you fell Fred got all panicky and refused to hit another bludger."  
"At least you're alright; I seriously thought I'd killed you, George! It hit you so hard." Fred's eyes were still hyper-alert and he couldn't believe that he was responsible for putting his brother in the hospital wing.  
"S' fine. I'm fine." George muttered all the same glaring at Fred "What the hell did you do that for anyway?"  
"I didn't know you were there! I thought I was hitting it at the Ravenclaws."  
George, not ready to forgive and forget just yet glared at him and scoffed. Madam Pomfrey approached, shooing Angelina and Charlie to the side, George almost leapt up.  
"Can I go?"  
She pushed him firmly back to the pillows.  
"Not just yet, Mr Weasley. I want to keep you here a little longer to be sure your mind isn't affected. But you lot…" she turned to the team "can leave him to rest. Shoo! You too, Mr Weasley…and Mr Weasley!" She chased Charlie and Fred several paces.  
Fred left slowly, apologetically staring over his shoulder at his twin.  
"I said I was sorry."_

_George scowled and grudgingly allowed Madam Pomfrey to force some warmish liquid that tasted like toast down his throat._

xxxXxxx

"_Let it go, mate! You know I didn't mean to do it!" Fred persisted as he and George made their way back from Transfiguration. The latter was determined to ignore his twin, he still wasn't finished being angry at him. After a minute or so he rounded on him.  
"You turned my watch into porcupine! How could you not mean to do that?!"  
"Relax, McGonagall put it right!"  
"You still did it."  
"Ge-Daisy roots-" Fred paused to recite the password to the Fat Lady's portrait which opened to admit them into the Gryffindor Common Room.  
"George, I said I was sorry, just leave it would you?"  
George sighed and held up his left wrist, all along it were deep puncture marks.  
"I'll leave it when you match me."_

xxxXxxx

_George was angry, he was not at all pleased with his twin in fact he felt betrayed. He didn't speak to his twin who ran behind him crying out various things. Finally in their dormitory he turned to Fred.  
"You KNEW I was going to ask Angelina to the Ball! Why the hell would you do that? I thought you were my brother."  
"I am, it sorta just slipped out! I had to show Ron how easy it was to ask a girl and Angelina was the nearest option." Fred defended, looking a little ashamed now. "I didn't think you'd care that much."  
"Yeah, I wouldn't ordinarily but when I told you that I was going to ask her, you go and ask her! That's just being a git, you know I fancy her…."  
Fred was beginning to have had enough now.  
"Yeah, I know. Guess what…I do too!"  
George blinked, his anger forgotten for the moment "You do?"  
"Yeah…I mean, I guess" Fred turned around and ran a hand through his flaming red hair. "I just- I didn't want you to get mad at me. That's why I didn't tell you..."  
"So you thought asking Angelina out in front of me __**wouldn't**__ make me mad at you?"  
Fred didn't reply immediately only stared around the otherwise empty dormitory.  
"Listen to us, would ya? Fighting over a girl. It's stupid really."  
His twin smirked slightly despite himself  
"It is isn't it?" He stared out the window and then turned back to Fred "You know, I don't fancy her that much anyway…"  
Fred raised a red eyebrow "Oh you don't huh?"  
George grinned "Nah. Besides…" he winked "I think it's you she fancies." _

xxxXxxx

'Fred?' George tried again, a lone tear sliding down his face as he stared out across the fields, the sun beginning to set on the horizon. A beautiful but terrible shade of crimson.  
"Fred?" He said aloud. "Damn it! You were always there! I need you now!" His voice broke, and he choked back a sob.  
"Why won't you listen?" He added in a whisper, dropping his face between his knees and drawing them to his chest.  
_You think I'm not hurting?  
_'Fred?' George lifted his face in shock.  
_Hey there, sunshine.  
_'You're not really here are you? I'm going crazy, it's just grief making me go crazy.'  
_I can't really answer that, but you'll believe it if you keep thinking it.  
_George rocked back and forward, still hugging his knees for a moment.  
"Will you stay?" he asked aloud after a pause.  
Fred-in-his-head remained silent for so long George thought he had left again. _I'm not sure. I'll never be gone.  
_George closed his eyes and let the last sunlight of the day bathe his face in gold. They shared everything, there wasn't anything they hadn't told the other eventually. Such as it was when one is one person in two bodies. They had joked about their futures and discussed them seriously. The possibility of either of them ever having twin sons cropped up several times and eventually evolved into a strange promise that, on the off chance that it did happen, they would name one of their sons after their twin, either Fred or George.  
George scoffed slightly under his breath 'Bill and Fleur are gonna have a baby.'  
_I know, I was there._ Fred's amused voice replied.  
'Mum confused us again.'

_I know. I heard it…I was there when you busted your hand…_  
'You didn't try to stop me?"  
_Yeah, I did actually! I was there, if you had bothered to look hard enough. Your reflection had two ears, idiot…you've only got one, Your Holeyness.  
_George didn't say anything. This was as close as he and his twin would ever get to a conversation in this life…the life he didn't even know if he was completely living. He supposed he wasn't. He supposed he was just a shell and that the real George had died along with Fred.  
_George…I know what you're thinking._  
'So?'  
_So put it this way, if you wind up killing yourself…I'm gonna make sure you never do see me again. I would never forgive you for that._  
Fred's voice was so grave and serious that it scared George a little. He snorted and said nothing.

The last of the sunset seeped beneath the horizon, bathing George's gaunt face in shadow once more. A shadow that he doubted it would ever come out of.


	5. Shell Cottage

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Five**

**Shell Cottage**

_The room was full of swirling and twirling couples. The champions had long since had their first dance. George supposed he was lucky, he had managed to get an attractive blonde that was probably part Veela from Beauxbatons to accompany him. But he couldn't take his eyes from Fred and Angelina even as he danced, in a moment a yelp from his partner made him snap back to attention. She glowered at him and berated him in her, rather alluring, French accent.  
"My foot."  
"Sorry!" He apologized quickly and altered his hold on her, taking a step back so as not to trample on her toes again.  
"Nice catch, mate." Fred pulled Angelina nearer to his brother and winked at him.  
George smirked and tried not to look jealous as he watched the couple twirl away, it didn't work and he promptly stepped on the toes of his poor partner again._

_The time dragged on, George wasn't having nearly as much fun as he had imagined he would. Sure, Fred probably did fancy Angelina more than him and she seemed rather partial to Fred but that wasn't going to stop him secretly envying his twin. His partner returned, the hem of her violet dress billowing as she glided across the floor with two goblets in hand, handing one to George as she gracefully swept aside the skirts of her dress and sat beside him. Apparently she had forgiven him for trampling her.  
"Here, George." She said, her voice carrying a slightly musical hint.  
"Shouldn't you have gotten the drinks, mate?"  
George glanced to his left to find Lee Jordan beside him, Alicia Spinnet having made herself scarce from his company.  
He grinned "I didn't tell her to do it, she just did."  
"How did you get one of those girls to go with you?" Lee whispered, leaning intently toward George, keen for some tips.  
"I asked her, pea brain…" he glanced around Lee and took a drink from his Butterbeer "Where's Alicia?"  
"Bathroom I think." He replied lightly and glanced back at George.  
"I thought you were asking Angelina?" He muttered, eyeing George's date. "Why's Fred dancing with her?"  
The twin looked away before lying smoothly.  
"I decided not to ask her. He fancies her more…besides…" he smiled wryly "I'm happy."  
He turned to the Beauxbatons girl, whose name was mercifully easy to remember, 'Belle,' and lay aside his goblet, intending to ask her to dance again. A gesture she was obviously pleased with as the look of boredom vanished from her face to be replaced with one of relief as she took his hand._

"_Goodnight, George." She smiled, pressing a light kiss to his cheek as they bade goodnight in the entrance. She lingered there for a moment, as if she was waiting for him to do something. He flushed "Uh-yeah. Night…" he returned, kissing her hand and smirking confidently.  
Evidently the French girl was not satisfied and she scoffed…and then she was kissing him. George blinked, thoroughly taking aback by the very affectionate gesture but more than a little pleased all the same as he returned the kiss._

_A loud wolf whistle pierced the moment and Belle moved back blushing and smiling, apparently pleased with George's skills.  
Fred converged on them, grinning from ear to ear.  
"What have we here?" He was alone as Angelina had already retired back to the Common Room with several of her giggling friends.  
His younger twin blushed a little but grinned cockily as Belle rushed off. Fred took immense joy in the hint of red on his brother's cheeks and jabbed George in the ribs as they began to make their way back upstairs.  
"You are apparently a very good date, mate! Or was she just being polite? I heard they do that a lot in France." He chuckled happily at his twin's embarrassment.  
"Yeah, yeah…shut it." George scowled, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips all the same.  
"How did you manage to catch one of those girls?" Fred was obviously enjoy taunting his brother.  
"I asked her you git. Besides I look much better than you, it's clear she fell for my charm, awe inspiring good personality and good looks." He chose his words carefully, lacing sarcasm where needed and running a hand through his hair to emphasise the last point.  
Fred laughed more from relief than anything; evidently George was no longer sore about Angelina._

xxxXxxx

George snorted a little as he awoke to the lulling sound of waves breaking on the seashore and the calling of gulls…and the none-so-graceful sounds of retching as Fleur emptied her stomach in the bathroom down the hall. He sat straight upright immediately and stared suspiciously around the unfamiliar room. The floorboards were much lighter than the ones at the Burrow and there was no second bed in the room, just the one below the window that allowed sun to stream onto his face. He knew immediately where he was and rolled out from under the sheets at once, hardly believing that Bill had actually done what he did. His foot caught in the white sheets as he made to leave the bed sending him sprawling onto the floor in a heap and muttering several choice words.  
The noise was enough to alert the inhabitants of the cottage to his state of consciousness and only a few moments later the door opened, admitting entrance to a wooden tray that floated over to the small table beside the bed. It bore a white cup of tea, a small sugar bowl with a spoon and a plate of bacon, toast and sausages with the appropriate silverware.  
_  
_A few moments later, his sister-in-law appeared in the doorway looking positively radiant despite her recent morning sickness episode, the faint beginnings of a baby bump starting to show beneath her white apron. "Good morning. You are feeling better?"  
George blinked and hoisted himself off the floor "Better than what?"  
She smiled gently "You were very ill last night I think. You were very pale and cold in your sleep."  
"When…when did I get here?"  
"Bill brought you last night while you slept. He knew you would resist leaving while you were awake." Fleur explained kindly, anticipating George's next question.  
He looked around the room again quickly "Why? Why did he bring me here?"  
"You are not well, George…" she began "Bill tells me you are not coping at all, you needed to get away from it."  
"I was perfectly fine." He snapped.  
Her kind eyes hardened instantly "You were not. Now eat." She replied curtly and nodded to the tray of breakfast. With that she left the room calling out behind her "Bill is not working today."  
George stared after her, she was a beautiful woman and could be perfectly lovely in a good mood but Fleur Weasley had a terrible temper ordinarily and now she was pregnant… he stared for a moment at the empty doorway then sighed, dropping back onto his bed and taking a sip of the rapidly cooling tea.

He ventured downstairs, having found his clothes set neatly in the wardrobe and changed, to find Fleur busying herself in the kitchen with various odds and ends. He peered into the rooms as he past. It was a lovely cosy little cottage, perfectly comfortable for a new family. He could smell the sea even from inside and without a window open. George peered out the nearest one to see Bill standing on the sand of the beach a little ways from the house. He sighed, thinking he best go talk to his brother and left the cottage. It was lovely from the outside too, the walls and ceiling lined with hundreds of shells, no doubt being how it had earned its title of 'Shell Cottage'.

Bill turned around as George approached and looked away guiltily "I'm sorry, George. But it was the only way."  
"So you essentially kidnap me?" He raised an eyebrow "Does Mum even know?"  
"Of course they all know. Look, I know you didn't want to come but perhaps it's best if you just spend a few days here, away from all the years of…memories… "  
George scoffed "Damn right I didn't wanna come. What's to stop me Apparating back?"  
"Nothing." Bill shrugged "Go if you want to."  
The twin grabbed Bill's shoulder and spun him to look him in the eye.  
"What are you playing at?"  
Bill raised an eyebrow "What?"  
"What are you doing, Bill? You can't honestly expect me to miraculously become happy and cheerful after a few days here with you and Fleur?"  
"I know…I just thought it would help, there's nothing to…you know."  
"What? Send me spiralling into depression? Nothing to ever remind me of the twin I lost?" George snapped, his voice beginning to rise over the lapping of the ocean. "It doesn't have to be the Burrow to make me think of Fred, Bill!"  
The older man's eyes lowered "I didn't mean it like that, George. You know I didn't."  
George sighed and said nothing. The more he thought on it, the more appealing the idea of staying here became. Perhaps it would help, maybe it would make him less crabby and irritable.  
The conversation ended after that and Bill clapped a hand onto George's shoulder, confident that he would stay. "Come in when you're ready, hey?"  
George nodded slowly, staring out over the tide as the crunching of the wet sand and shells told him Bill was making his way back to the cottage. 

An hour later saw George wandering along the sand behind the cottage. Between two bushels something caught his eye and he paused, it was a smooth, white stone standing upright over a small mound and George's curiosity got the better of him. He knelt beside the mound and brushed away the thin layer of sand the stone had gained over the months. He ran his eyes over the inscription and felt his heart drop a little further '_Here Lies Dobby, a Free Elf.' _He silently drew out his wand from his pocket and moved it in a slow circle. In the smooth mound of sand a small bunch of flowers formed in front of the marker and George returned his wand silently.  
"I'm sure it was a noble end." One corner of his lips twitched upward sadly in an almost smile as he respectfully patted the very small grave. With that he stood, dusted off his jeans and thought again on all the losses the side of good had suffered to defeat the most powerful Dark Wizard of all time. Dobby, over fifty innocent students, so many innocent Muggle Borns and muggles, and those closest to the Order…Remus and Tonks, their son was barely six months now, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Dumbledore…and Fred. Their times had come far too early, it seemed. Remus and Tonks, newly married and new parents, she was only twenty-five and Remus, thirty-eight. Fred…he was only twenty, far too young to die. No. George argued with himself, you were never too young to die.

xxxXxxx

He never thought there would be so much for him to do in the days he stayed with his brother and sister-in-law but Fleur kept him busy, tending the garden from the weather, moving furniture to a location she thought looked better and cooking and cleaning the small kitchen. A task which George claimed to be 'getting in touch with his feminine side', this was a comment Fleur would promptly chase him around the cottage after uttering. It was good, though the tasks ought not to have been exhausting, that he found himself tired out at the end of each day and marvelled at how Fleur and his mother could keep up such a pace. Even the nightmares had dulled, something which he could only attribute to being too tired to deal with them.

After about a week during which George had not snapped and lost his head, a new personal best, Bill sat in an armchair by the newly lit fire with his feet propped up on the low table reading the Daily Prophet. He seemed completely absorbed in one article he didn't so much as grunt when either his brother or his wife spoke. Eventually he flung the paper down with a cry of disgust.  
"That nosey, scheming little weasel!"  
Fleur looked up from her knitting in alarm, the needles still continuing their work on a baby blanket in mid air.  
"What is it?"  
Bill held up the paper so the other two could read the caption.

It read: **Bereaved or Barmy?**

_It has now been five months since the final destruction of the most powerful Dark Wizard known to wizard kind and the many that lost their lives in the final battle against You-Know-Who will never be forgotten. But are there those, close ones to the deceased who have perhaps lost more than a family member? Rita Skeeter embarks on her mission to find the answers to this question._

Beneath the short article was a picture of a woman, whose extremely short, curly blond hair and green horn rimmed glasses gave the impression of a nosy weasel. Which was exactly what she could correctly be described as, George knew, and he could not shake the horrible feeling rising in his stomach.  
"She's actually going around trying to find out how people deal with their grief?!" Bill snarled, utterly disgusted. "I thought the people at the Prophet would have had some sense knocked into them now."  
"Not just grief. She doesn't care about that. She's going to try to find out who's losing their minds...and I know which people are high on her list" George said impassively, tossing the paper into the fire and watching Rita Skeeter's smiling face wink at him as the paper curled into non-existence. He could feel his brother's eyes on him and Fleur's knitting needles were no longer clacking away. "I'm not losing it, Bill." He murmured, not moving his eyes from the flames. Slowly the clacking resumed but husband and wife exchanged a glance that clearly said they didn't know nor like what was happening to the Weasley brother.

xxxXxxx

"I'm telling you, I'm alright now. Yeah, I was a mess when I came. You've seen me this week, Bill. I'm better honestly." George insisted, looking his brother firmly in the eye. Despite the seven year age difference they were exactly the same height therefore losing all potential of intimidation.  
"Look, I don't even get nightmares anymore." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or Bill. The latter frowned, clearly he didn't think George was ready to return to the Burrow.  
George read this instantly "Would you stop acting like I'm in rehabilitation or something? It's not like I just got out of St Mungos!"  
"Bill. I think you should let him go…" Fleur said gently, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder and then quickly on her stomach and a faraway look appeared in her eyes as she no doubt felt the baby move.  
George ran a hand through his hair in exasperation when the urge that had been nagging at him tugged again.  
"I don't want to go home for long anyway…I want to…I want to go back to the shop….what's left of it."  
Bill bit his lip "Are you sure that's wise?"  
"Hey! I'm not about to kill myself so stop treating me like I am!" George shouted "You can't stop me anyway. I'll go back home to Mum for a day or two and then I'm going back to Diagon Alley." He turned to Fleur "Thanks for keeping me busy…" he smiled slightly, nodded to Bill and Disapparated.


	6. Wheezes

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Six**

**Wheezes**

George stood in the middle of the cobbled street of Diagon Alley looking forlornly at the sorry building that was once the extremely successful Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It had obviously been ransacked by the Death Eaters and no one had bothered to clean it up at any time in the past...however long it had been since he and Fred had left. He had sent an owl to Verity to tell her that he was returning to Wheezes and she was free to return to work if she wished and that she would be returning to a generous bonus if she did.  
He sighed, and drew out his wand to form a sign saying "RETURNING SOON" outside the broken window. It wasn't a very pretty picture; the bright colours were no longer bright and every window smashed. The wood was splintered and the walls cracked...George was really dreading to see the interior.

It seemed he dreaded it for good reason as a horrid smell struck his senses the moment he entered the store. He found the source immediately, every vial of pink liquid that was formerly love potions was shattered releasing their fumes in an extremely strong combination that had obviously not faded with time. Covering his nose with the collar of his jacket he gazed around the hundreds of shelves and felt a sharp pang of sorrow. Their creation, their dreams were completely destroyed, random objects that were once trick wands lay scattered everywhere, the majority of which had become rubber chickens.  
Half fearing what he would find, George climbed the stairs four at a time until he arrived at the small flat. He pushed the door open. Like he had expected it had obviously been searched furiously. Every cupboard was open and most of the chairs overturned. Cursing the Death Eaters that now were either dead or in Azkaban, he flicked his wand at said chairs which promptly righted themselves and made his way through the few rooms, feeling sickly nostalgic, the twin beds lay exactly as Fred and he had left them the day they fled the shop to go to Aunty Muriel's, completely untidy and unmade.  
The mountain of paper work on the kitchen table had been scattered in an obvious attempt to find some hint of where the inhabitants of the shop could have gone. At least he wouldn't have to sort all that out now, George thought absentmindedly as he whisked them all back in to a pile.  
He didn't leave the flat for a while, not wanting to go back into the mess that had once been his dream, it still was in some ways but now it would always be just that, a dream. There was no way he could ever completely fulfil it without Fred. He perched himself on the table and idly flicked his wand toward the broken window above the sink which repaired itself immediately, Bill had probably been right. It probably wasn't such a good idea for him to live here by himself with literally everything to remind him of Fred. But George didn't care, he decided if anything it would at least keep him busy enough.  
He sat there for about half an hour, idly repairing and returning things to their proper place. Heaving a sigh, he pushed off the wooden table and decided to return to the carnage that was the shop.  
A gentle tapping on the newly repaired window distracted him and he turned to see a tawny barn owl tapping on the glass. He let it in quickly and it held out its foot for him to untie the parchment from it. No sooner had he done so the owl flew off from whence it came.  
He unfurled the parchment and scanned the writing quickly.

_George._

_I'm glad you're finally reopening the shop. I've been out of a job for months. I honestly didn't think you would reopen considering what happened…anyway, I'll be there tomorrow to help fix things up._

How are you doing?

_Verity_

He screwed up the parchment and tossed it over his shoulder into the wastebasket a few metres away. He sighed, tilted his head back hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would be alright here.  
But he couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach he had had since he read that caption in the Prophet. Rita Skeeter.  
He sighed and made his way to the door, gazing around the empty flat forlornly and made his way back into the shop slowly. The windows were simple to repair and he had that done in a flash, literally…he drew down a long blind to cover the front window while he worked.

xxxXxxx

It was less painful than he had thought, George pondered, with Verity's help the shop was restored to its former glory over the week. Ron stopped around often to assist them for which George was grateful, but he did not appreciate the concerned looks he caught Verity shooting at him.  
He hardly spoke a word to her over the week and only grunted or spoke in one syllable words when she spoke to him, thankfully she knew better than to bring up Fred. Like at Shell Cottage he had kept himself too busy to dwell in the millions of memories that lingered only in these rooms.

This particular day however, the day they reopened their doors, she couldn't stop talking, obviously excited to be back in business. "Ready?"  
He shrugged "As I'll ever be." With that he flicked his wand and the blind flew back from whence it came, bright purple letters spelling out 'GRAND RE-OPENING!' tattooed themselves across the glass.  
He looked around the store, the love potions were restored on their luminescent pink stand, the Re-Usable Hangman was beginning his slow ascent of the wooden steps to the gallows and the only things that they had none of were the Pygmy Puffs which had sadly all died out.  
As he had thought there were a few customers already outside waiting and jiggling in anticipation and they poured in immediately. Verity hastened to greet them but George lingered on the second landing watching them below.  
He felt a horrible pang, this wasn't right. He shouldn't have reopened the shop…not without Fred and that wasn't really an option now was it? He turned and leaned against a shelf of Invisibility Merchandise and took a few shuddering breaths to compose himself. He was fine. He was fine. He really was alright.  
He willed then with all his might for Ron to show up to help as he had promised he would be on opening day. Where the hell was his little brother?  
"Sorry I'm late. Couldn't get away from Mum."  
George jumped slightly as Ron's voice appeared behind him. He turned around, relief obvious in his startled blue eyes.  
"It's fine. Look, can you handle it here? I've got some stuff needs finishing in the flat." He said quickly, trying to brush off his absence. The uncertainty and quiver in his voice allowed Ron to see straight through his guise.  
"What is it really?" he frowned "What's up, George?"  
"Nothing. I'm fine. I've got stuff that needs finishing upstairs." He insisted "Geez will you ever stop fretting? I'm not killing myself!" He perhaps cried that last part a little too loudly as there was a sudden hush throughout the store and he turned around slowly, meeting the eyes of every person, customer and staff, present. He grinned uneasily.  
"Uhh…hi…." He said rather lamely. Of course they all knew that the other half of the twins was dead.  
Slowly the voices and whisperings started up again and Ron blinked at his brother as he turned back to face him.  
"…yeah, sure…I can handle it." He muttered, thoroughly convinced there was another reason for George's sudden desire to leave.

Below in the crowd, a woman with short, blonde curls watched curiously as the co-founder of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes disappeared up the stairs, his comment had been most…intriguing. She thought, giggling slightly as she stroked her acid green quill across her cheek. This would be a story and a half.

xxxXxxx

"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" George cried, aiming a sharp kick at an innocent chair, sending it cartwheeling aside.

He retreated into the bedroom and dropped onto his bed, rolling over into his pillow with his feet dangling off the end and feeling increasingly childish. He was running and hiding because he was afraid to open the shop without his twin…pathetic. He rolled over as a dizzy spell suddenly struck him as it hadn't done in months. The loss of his ear was obviously still having side effects. He groaned and closed his eyes. He knew then. He would never be alright. He would never get over Fred.  
A soft thump jerked his attention away from the inside of his eyelids and he opened one teary eye to find the source of the noise. A solid object about the size of a book had fallen from the bedside table onto the floor. He reached one long arm out and pushed it closer to him, his fingers snatching at the edge to get a good grip. A picture frame. A twelve-year old Fred and George stared back at him with their arms over each other's shoulders, waving and grinning excitedly. They were dressed alike as usual, but this time in their new Quidditch uniform, their matching beaters clubs in their hands, completely identical and only they could tell themselves apart. No missing ears, no deathly pale complexions, no death.  
The present twenty year old George felt a single tear slip from his eyes as he gazed at the picture. He partly wanted to fling it across the room and never see it again, partly wanted to lay it aside and curl up in a ball and cry like a child, and partly wanted to look at it forever and never let himself forget the happy years.  
He blinked and brought the picture closer to his face. The twins in the picture still smiled and waved but he could have sworn-there it was again-Fred had winked at him. His face had shown a maturity far beyond that of a twelve year old for a moment and winked directly at George.  
He almost dropped the picture and wriggled into a sitting position still staring at the photograph. "Fred?" He murmured, looking up, half expecting him to be sitting in front of him perched cross legged on the end of his bed…but he wasn't.

xxxXxxx

He must have fallen asleep, but he couldn't remember doing so. George blinked, bleary eyed as he sat up on the bed, his cheeks were damp and sticky from apparently crying in his sleep. He groaned, and rolled over onto his other side, promptly yelping and rolling right off his bed.  
"Bloody hell! What are you trying to do?!" He cried and pulled himself onto his knees to glare at his brother who sat in a chair in the corner of the room.  
Ron looked slightly sheepish "Didn't mean to scare you…it's just you didn't come back into the shop. People were asking about you."  
"So you thought you'd come up here and scare me half to death when I woke up?!"  
"No, I thought I'd come up here and see what the hell was up with you." Ron glowered darkly at his older sibling.  
George finally heaved himself off the floor and sat on the edge of his bed, running a pale hand over his tired face.  
"I was tired, alright?"  
Ron bit his lip. "You were crying in your sleep, mate…and, you had this…" he held out the photograph which George promptly snatched from his hand and blushed, embarrassed.  
"Do you wanna talk?"  
"It's none of your bloody business, Ronald!" He placed the picture back in its proper place and made his way into the kitchen, Ron on his tail. He pulled a glass from an overhead cabinet and downed a glass of water, evidently deciding it was not enough.  
Ron watched his brother apprehensively as he drew a bottle of Firewhisky from somewhere and poured a glass of that.  
"George. Please don't drink."  
"Don't tell me what to do…" he muttered and took a gulp of the liquid.  
Ron was gobsmacked, never before had he seen any of his family like this…it was starting to scare him. Especially so because he thought George was improving and starting to move on. Apparently that was not the case.  
"Relax, Ron…" he started, interrupting his train of thought "I'm not an alcoholic."  
"That'd be more convincing if you weren't drinking at the moment."  
"It calms me down…" George defended rather poorly, looking out at the overcast sky outside the window. "Did you close shop?"  
Ron took a seat at the table. "Yeah…I did. George, Mum wants me to tell her how you are…"  
"M' fine."  
"Yeah, that Firewhisky is really reassuring! You're crying in your sleep, mate. You're not alright."  
"I said, m' fine." George replied, still in the same monotone voice, still not looking at anything but the window.  
Ron had just about had enough; as his brother poured himself a third glass of the alcohol he snatched away the bottle and held it above his head.  
"That's enough! That's more than enough!"  
George glowered darkly at him and downed the glass in one.  
"It's also mine, give it back."  
The youngest Weasley boy flicked his wand and the Firewhisky disappeared "I don't wanna have to tell our family that you're drinking again."  
"So don't tell them then!" George shouted, rising from his seat and towering over his sitting brother "Go back to your girlfriend and leave me the hell alone!"  
Ron gaped and stood also, his jaw set "Fine…you really don't want help? Fine." With not so much as a goodbye he Disapparated.  
George, his fury slowly slipping away, lowered himself to sit on the table, running his freckled, long fingered hands through his hair.  
"Fred…I need you. Where are you?" He muttered to himself and allowed the tears to fall silently over his freckled cheeks. "You're only almost here…" he hiccupped.  
A sharp knock rang through the air and George lifted his face, praying for them to go away. They didn't and the knocks became closer together until they formed one long stream of tapping.  
It was then he realised, the only way into the flat was through the shop…he groaned and wiped his eyes, attempting to compose himself.  
He opened the door slowly and somewhat apprehensively "How'd you get-" he cut himself short in shock and gaped at the figure standing in his doorway.  
She giggled, and twirled the long quill around in her fingers, a sickeningly, conniving smirk playing over her stretched features.  
"Good evening, dear…a word?"


	7. Fox

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Seven**

**Fox**

**Dedication- This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful readers! My life would not be complete without you all! A special shout out to- Lilac Rose6, Ellivia22 and rozepoze2000. Without you three this story would have stayed as nothing but a humble oneshot! I love you all!**

"Good evening, dear….a word?" The woman asked innocently craning her neck to see the inside of the flat.  
George blinked blankly at her for a moment "Sure. You can have a word. In fact you can have two words…Get. Out." With that he slammed the door, none too gently, in her face.  
He turned around with the beginnings of a sinking feeling in his gut and jumped violently at the _pop_ that was the unmistakeable sound of Apparating. He spun around quickly and glowered at the witch as she stood in front of the table looking around with a curious expression on her hawk like face. She met his eyes with a broad, sickly smile.  
"Come now, don't be difficult." She whipped out a notepad and settled herself in a chair with one leg crossed over the other tightly in the constricting skirt. Placing the notepad on the table she balanced the acid green quill on its end and looked up at George, patting the opposite side of the table.  
"I know what you want. I'm not losing my mind." He stated adamantly, shocked as the Quick Quotes Quill already began zooming across the parchment. "Now, Get. Out."  
She brushed off his menacing tone and reached into her bag withdrawing from its depths two goblets and a bottle of Butterbeer. "Come now. Just a few short questions. You must know that we at the Daily Prophet are _very_ concerned with the wellbeing of the grieving." She laced thickly, putting on a thick tone that George supposed was meant to be comforting.  
"No. Leave me alone."  
The weasel stood and began to poke her way around the kitchen, and into the bedroom. She giggled, apparently satisfied that Fred's bed was still messy and crumpled. Then her eyes alighted on the half empty glass of Firewhisky "Ah…so, this is how you cope."  
"Ou-What? No!" The last thing he needed was the Prophet proclaiming wrongly that he was an alcoholic.  
"Hm." She giggled, sounding remarkably like Dolores Umbridge, and put the glass down, the Quill was busily scratching undoubtedly false notes.  
George opened his mouth to order her to leave again but closed it abruptly. It was obvious she wasn't leaving until she got what she wanted. Rita returned to her seat and poured out two goblets of Butterbeer.  
"Butterbeer?"  
George glared at her. "You are not getting what you want, so get out of my home."  
"Now, George, dear. I just want to have a little chat. Don't think so little of me." She giggled and took a sip, drumming her long, violent red fingernails on the table. She raised a thin eyebrow expectantly and lay aside the goblet.  
"So tell me…how are you dealing since the death of your twin?"  
George stared stonily at her, not saying a word.  
"Now, now, don't be shy. We're friends aren't we?"  
Rita shrugged and nodded to her quill which began writing almost before she began talking "Never mind telling me then, I can read people very well and you, George Weasley, are on the verge of a breakdown. Could it be that you blame yourself for his tragic end?"

That was it; he was not staying silent anymore. He slammed his palms down on the table violently "Listen you sneaky, conniving, treacherous toad…you are not going to get the story you want here, I'm fine, I'm not on the verge of a breakdown and YOU can bloody well get out of here before I decide to retest some of our inventions!"  
She blinked and that same little smirk was ever present on the corner of her lips as she sat completely undeterred by the murderous gleam in George's eyes. Unaware of what he was doing he raised the goblet of Butterbeer to his lips, which was quite possibly the most foolish thing he could have done, and took a deep drink. Never moving his eyes from her.  
"So!" She cried brightly "That was not a denial!"

George slumped down in the chair and his mouth began to move of its own accord before he could shut himself up.  
"I guess…I kind of do feel responsible for it…if I had stayed with him maybe I could have saved him…"  
_Why in Merlin's name did you tell her that?! _ The outraged voice of Fred roared in his mind.  
George clapped a hand over his mouth, the Quick Quotes Quill did a sort of happy dance and scribbled furiously. 'I don't know! It just came out!'  
"Damn!" He roared aloud.  
_You complete and utter idiot! There was Veritaserum in that Butterbeer!_

George flew to the cupboards pleading with anything and everything that she would not pose another question before he could find the antidote, he wrenched out the contents furiously.  
Behind him the snake's smirk was growing rapidly.  
"I have come to understand that you have sternly rejected your family. Why have you done so? Do you not want help?"  
George knew he would despise himself for ever as he uttered his next regrettable words.  
"No. I don't think I want their help…" He paused in his relentless search. It was the question he had been asking himself for weeks but hadn't brought himself to answer and Veritaserum always forced an honest answer didn't it?  
He cursed his stupidity and whipped out his wand.  
"Accio antidote!" at once a small bottle flew in his hand from an open drawer. He didn't hesitate and ripped off the stopper, taking a generous gulp of the bluish liquid. He fought down the urge to vomit into the sink and replaced the stopper with shaking hands. Without turning around, he would not give her the satisfaction of seeing his face, he muttered in soft and deadly tones:  
"Leave."

Rita Skeeter unhooked her legs from each other and stood, vanishing the Butterbeers with a swish. "Thank you for your time…" the elation in her voice was obvious. She returned her quill and parchment back into the crocodile skin handbag along with a photograph and closed it with a snap. This story was far from over.  
She giggled softly and stared at the Weasley's shuddering back  
"Feel better." She said jokingly and Disapparated.  
As soon as she was gone, George ran the cold water and splashed it over his face. He couldn't stop himself shaking now and he knew he must be horribly pale. He lifted his face and stared out the window. The stars were less bright then they usually seemed, as though they too were refusing to forgive him for his words. He wasn't sure he could forgive himself.  
The glass of Firewhisky was looking extremely appealing now and he downed the remainder of it at once.  
'Fred?'  
_No.  
_'Fred?'  
_No. I won't let your life be such a mess. If you even have one now.  
_'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…'  
_Goodbye, George._  
'Don't!'  
_Goodbye.  
_"Don't go! I'm sorry! I'm sorry-I'm so sorry…." George slipped slowly to the floor, his back against the wooden bench, rocking back and forth and sobbing into his arms.

He was really messed up…

xxxXxxx

_Fred lifted his eyes from his parchment and glared hatefully at the short, pink, frog-like witch who giggled in satisfaction and looked around the room. Sorted throughout the classroom, almost twenty students sat in detention, some sniffing, some wincing and some, like Fred were trying to bite back the pain as their respective lines were carved into their hands. Anything from 'I must not hold hands with a girl' to 'I must tuck my shirt in' to 'I must not cheat' and in the twins' case 'We must respect our superiors at all times'.  
Directly beside him George sat with his head down, his left hand twitching as the words embedded themselves there. George's eyes were shiny and he was fighting his hardest not to give Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing him cry from the pain. Fred felt a new bubble of rage beginning to swell in his gut…how dare she make his twin cry. There wasn't much that could do that and yet she had. He hated her. They all did. The foul, evil old gargoyle as Hermione so eloquently put it.  
Fred couldn't believe that she actually thought this punishment would teach the Weasley twins a lesson, that was about as likely as Severus Snape awarding Gryffindor points of free will._

_An hour later saw them released from her inhumane detention and there was not one among the number that was not holding their wounded hand tenderly.  
"Blimey…she's got to go…" George muttered darkly, rubbing the newly healed flesh.  
Fred nodded firmly "Yeah…despicable, slimy toad." He paused mid-way up a staircase.  
George stopped a few steps ahead of him. "What's up?"  
"You ok?" Fred frowned.  
His twin nodded "Why wouldn't I be?"  
"I saw you in there, you were almost crying, George." He said, concern spreading across his face. "No one makes you cry."  
George half smiled "I'm fine. Just hurts is all." He assured Fred, holding up his hand, the identical scars were still oozing blood in a few spots, it certainly looked painful. He lightly shoved his brother playfully:  
"Don't fuss, eh?"  
"Yeah…you're right." Fred smirked and clapped his brother on the back  
They both jumped in unison as the Galleons in their pockets started to burn, and the twins exchanged a gleeful glance as they discovered the time of the next DA meeting. Tonight._

xxxXxxx

"_You're all doing really, really well! Fantastic, Luna!" Harry cried as Luna managed to produce a full-bodied patronus and sent her silver hare leaping through the many students as they turned to watch it. George watched it hop happily over his twin's head before shaking his head clear and turning to Fred.  
"You wanna go first?"  
Fred grinned and nodded "Alright then. Here goes… Expecto Patronum_!"_  
He waved his wand and, to his joy, out of it streamed a silver fox which ran straight around Dean Thomas and back towards the twins.  
"Go on. Your turn, Georgie!" Fred grinned as he watched his fox run straight through Ron's terrier. George winked at him and mirrored his wand movement.  
"Expecto Patronum." To his disappointment only a stream of silver came from his wand, forming into nothing.  
Fred stifled a snicker and nodded "Try again then, maybe you're not happy enough eh?" He elbowed his brother and grinned. George glared mildly at him and shoved him back.  
"Shut it….Expecto Patronum!" This time a stronger stream poured from his wand, twisting and shaping itself into a silver meerkat that scampered and twisted through the air and ran a few times around George's head before joining in a race with Hermione's otter and someone's silver cat._

"_I do love patronuses. Don't you both?" Luna's sing song voice addressed the twins, her face watching in fascination at all the silver animals dancing about the Room of Requirement.  
"Yeah." They replied in unison, before crying out and leaping to either side as Ginny's horse cantered between them, its mane billowing out behind it in streams of charm._

"Oi, look at them." George nudged his twin and grinned, gesturing across the room to where Harry was assisting Cho Chang to correct her wand movement. A few seconds later a swan had burst forth from it and Cho had turned to smile at the very close Harry. Fred followed George's gaze and snickered.  
"Hey, wanna have some fun?"  
"Always."  
As one they raised their wands and sent their respective patronuses darting toward the flirting couple. Fred's fox reached them first and leapt straight through Harry's chest. The meerkat raised onto its hind legs and squeaked cheekily in Harry's face its big eyes looking remarkably like those of the twins. Cho giggled and took a step away from Harry, watching as her swan soared gracefully around the room and faded.

Harry blinked and jumped as the fox wound its way around his shoulders. He knew immediately whose patronuses they were and turned quickly toward the source of laughter, his expression somewhere between amusement and annoyance.  
"Well done, guys. Funny boys!" He cried and grinned, brushing his way through the animals who returned immediately to their casters. 

xxxXxxx

He sat there on the floor for hours, pleading with his silent twin to return, to forgive him. Remarkably, he resisted the urge to fetch another bottle of Firewhisky or otherwise for several reasons. Partly, he wasn't sure if he even had any left, and partly because he had no desire to feel any sicker than he already did.

Finally he had composed himself enough to attempt to stagger to his bed, he grasped for the edge of the sink and used it to drag himself to his feet. George squinted at the watch on his wrist which read a little after midnight.  
Feeling like crap he took a few hesitant steps to steady himself. It didn't work and he leapt the distance back to the sink, just in time to empty his stomach violently. He groaned and ran the water to rinse the sick away.  
"I'm never drinking again…" he murmured to himself and groaned as a fierce headache began to throb and he vomited again.  
It was another half an hour of retching and groaning before George deemed himself fit enough to stagger onto his bed.  
He collapsed immediately and soon made a vow not to leave the warm covers for a long while.

As he slumbered uneasily but deeply, a shape made its way silently over the covers and settled itself on George's pillow. It left no trace of prints behind it. The silver fox looked almost sad as it pressed it's muzzle into George's shoulder and burrowed itself into the pillow beside his head.


	8. I'm Alright

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Eight**

**I'm Alright**

George would never understand how he managed to drag himself out of bed even with a raging hang over and he was strangely proud of it. He couldn't stay away from the shop again, Ron had said people were asking after him and it certainly wouldn't do to let Verity run the shop herself. He really didn't know if his brother was coming back in a hurry.  
It was a monumental effort just to change his clothes and make himself look half presentable. There was no way he could get rid of the dark circles beneath his eyes and banish the bloodshot redness in any short amount of time. He contemplated making toast and had just reasoned that he probably couldn't keep any food down at the present when a somewhat hesitant knock made him look toward the door. He sighed and opened it, revealing a worried Verity, her jaw dropped slightly as she took in her boss's hung over appearance. "Mr Weasley…"  
"George."  
"George…wha-what the hell?"  
He grunted "M' Fine" and stood to the side to allow her entry.  
Verity stepped in somewhat hesitantly "What was wrong yesterday? Why'd you disappear?"  
The Weasley sighed. "Look, I'd rather not talk about yesterday if you don't mind. It was possibly one of the worst days of my life."  
Verity nodded "I'll make you a cup of tea." She said, making her way into the kitchen to put the water on.  
George pushed the door closed and winced at the unnaturally loud sound. He groaned and held his head "Never, never again…" A sudden thought struck him and he straightened and lifted his face.  
Verity watched as her boss dashed across the flat and into the bedroom like a man possessed.  
"No…no, no, no…" he muttered under his breath and wrenched open drawers, tossing out odds and ends. He wrenched open the wardrobe and threw random articles of clothing across the room in a mad rush. He looked on the table beside his bed and under both beds.  
He emerged slowly, a spider crawling idly across his forehead. He flicked it away impatiently and turned to meet the completely shocked eyes of his employee.  
"Uhh…George?"  
George's blue eyes narrowed and his jaw stiffened "That devious, foul, deceitful slime! It's gone!"  
Verity took a step back, a little afraid of the twin as he stormed out of the room "W-What's gone?"  
"It was right beside my bed! That thieving gargoyle!" He ranted, shouting at the wall.  
She squeaked, now really afraid of him as he spun around, a horrid gleam in his eyes. "W-Who? Wh-What? George, please tell me!"  
_"Skeeter." He spat out the name like it was a vomit flavoured Every-Flavour-Bean.  
"Rita Skeeter was here?" Verity gasped, no wonder he was so furious this morning. "What did she-I mean did you…" she trailed off, unable to finish the question.  
George didn't answer. It was gone. The photo was gone. _

xxxXxxx

"Excuse me?"  
George looked down from his perch midway up a ladder to meet the eyes of a boy he thought he recognized. Vaguely he began to register that most of the shop was filled with teenagers. Teenagers who should be at school. He groaned…Christmas holidays had begun. "Yeah?" He asked, composing himself and he jumped from his position on the ladder.  
The boy, who he now vaguely remembered as a Hufflepuff student he and Fred had been in detention with three years ago. Umbridge had punished students from various years at the one time, held up a package of Fainting Fancies "How much?"  
George thought for a moment and answered "Fifteen sickles."  
The student thanked him and made to go make the purchase, he froze mid step and looked around at George throwing him an expression somewhere between pity and curiosity.

Christmas holidays. Ginny would be back from Hogwarts and Charlie would be returning from Romania to spend Christmas with his family. Under no circumstances did George want to return to the Burrow for Christmas. He wanted to be alone in his flat and that was all. He grumbled to himself, snatching up a Decoy Detonator as it attempted a dash to freedom.  
As though she knew that the last he wanted was to see his family now, Ginny suddenly flew from out of nowhere and threw her arms around her brother.  
"George! How are you?"  
He blinked rapidly, and gently prized her arms from his ribcage "What are you doing here? Did anyone else come?"  
She shook her head "No, they didn't actually and I'm here to see how you're doing. Mum told me you'd reopened Wheezes." She frowned "She also told me that she hasn't seen you in about a month."  
George raised a fiery red eyebrow and looked down at his little sister "I'm alright, Ginny…" he just wished that was the truth.  
Ginny frowned, looking remarkably like her mother as she did so, she didn't believe a word of it for a moment "Yeah, sure you are..."  
Before she could say anything else her brother had off and disappeared into the crowd. Ginny sighed, she had barely seen George over the past months and already she was extremely worried for him and his sanity.

xxxXxxx

Like every night, it took George hours to fall into sleep, he spent a good portion of those hours trying to reach Fred who it seemed was far too angry with him to return this time...he couldn't stop wondering when Rita Skeeter would launch her attack, it had been several weeks since her extremely unwelcome 'interview'. He gave up and kicked off the covers. Winter was coming…he should have been freezing there in his pyjamas with no covers. If anything he was sweating…just what he needed…to get sick, George groaned and sat up. He fell immediately back to his pillow, too dizzy to sit up. He wasn't hung over, he hadn't touched alcohol for weeks, and his ear had never made him feel this bad before. Then, as suddenly as it hit, it had stopped and he found himself slowly beginning to cool off.  
With the cheery promise of illness in his head, George finally allowed the unwelcome land of dreams to claim him.

xxxXxxx

_His family was there, all of them standing around staring at him. Their fiery hair making it seem like there was a literal Ring of Fire encircling him. He was in pain, horrible pain and he knew he was dying. None of his family tried to help him, they all stared blankly at his writhing body, Bill and Ron were snickering evilly and his mother's lips twisted into a sadistic smirk not unlike that of Bellatrix Lestrange. Then George turned his neck to look into the face of his attacker._  
_"Crucio." The voice was cold and cruel. Void of all emotion but hatred. George screamed again and his body contorted violently, he whimpered as the curse ended. Leaving him twitching on the hard wooden floor. His eyes met those of his soon-to-be-murderer. His own eyes…no…his twin's eyes stared back at him icily. Fred tossed his head back and let out the most horrible laugh that George had ever heard. The triumphant laugh of Death as he claimed his victims. With that Fred raised his wand again and his lips moved. George heard no words but saw only a flash of green as his life ended._

_xxxXxxx_

He awoke screaming violently and shot bolt upright, relief flooding over him as he realised his nightmare had been just that, a nightmare. His shirt was sodden with sweat and he pulled it off in disgust, not wanting to lie down again for fear of closing his eyes and seeing that final, evil look, hearing that final, evil laugh as his own twin killed him.  
He sat in the middle of his bed with his legs crossed for longer than he could remember, rocking silently back and forth. He could never have had a more terrible dream, except possibly if the roles of Fred and himself had been reversed.  
He was still sweating and trembling horribly a good hour later, the flash of luminous green repeating itself over and over in his mind, the high, cold laughter echoing. He was sick…that had to be the reason. He was ill.  
He was his brother, he was his best mate, he was his other….now it was too late…

_xxxXxxx_

_George's vision was blurry as he struggled to keep his eyes open leaning heavily on Fred as he as good as carried his twin toward the hospital wing. Fred's face was pale, but from fear not blood loss like George's. It was all George could do to keep his jacket pressed to his nose in a vain attempt to stop the relentless nosebleed._  
_Every person they passed stopped and stared at them as Fred sprinted on, several girls screamed at the sight of the Weasley twins covered in blood and McGonagall did a double take._  
_"Fred, hurry up would you? I think I'm dying here!" George managed to slur out, his head was becoming lighter by the moment. Fred corrected his grip around George's waist and sprinted on, now completely carrying his brother._  
_"I'm trying!" He grunted "You're heavy!" he couldn't keep the panic from his voice…if his twin died from one of their experiments…. He didn't get a chance to finish his thought as he plunged into a crowd ascending a staircase. "Move it! Get out of the way you lot!" He bellowed loudly and at once the crowd parted with many more gasps, screams and cries of horror. Hermione's being one of them as she sped toward the twins, her mane of bushy hair flying out behind her._  
_"What happened?"_  
_Fred set his jaw and struggled to keep his pace with the witch sprinting alongside them. It was George who struggled to explain, his voice muffled behind the thick jacket he held to his face._  
_"Testing….didn't…stop…dying!" was all that was distinguishable._  
_Despite herself, Hermione clucked her tongue disapprovingly but her expression changed immediately to one of extreme concern. Not a moment too soon they burst into the Hospital Win, Fred crying out loudly for Madam Pomfrey. Said witch hurried out of her office clucking her tongue. She, like Hermione, gasped and rushed over immediately to the almost chalk white George Weasley._  
_Fred gently lowered his bleeding twin onto the hospital bed and pulled away the jacket just as his twin's grip on it faltered._  
_"What in Merlin's name have you boys done?" Madam Pomfrey cried as she examined the still not slowing nosebleed._  
_"Experiment went wrong." Was all Fred would offer as an explanation "Can you fix him?"_  
_"Can I- Of course I can!" Madam Pomfrey snapped crossly._  
_She pushed Fred aside and began a series of complicated wand movements, muttering continuously under her breath._

_Fred grinned as his brother's eyes opened slowly "How you feeling, Georgie?"_  
_George blinked, his vision beginning to clear as he pushed himself into a sitting position "Like I lost more than half the blood in my body."_  
_"As a matter of fact you almost did." Madam Pomfrey bustled over "What you boys were thinking…." She shook her head and held out a potion for George to drink._  
_He took it and examined it, it looked a little like Butterbeer .He took a gulp and spat it out instantly. It did not taste anything like Butterbeer, more along the lines of vomit._  
_The witch sighed and snatched up the potion, pulled George's head back by his hair and forced the foul liquid down his throat._  
_"Ouch!" He rubbed the back of his head and glowered at her. "That's disgusting!"_  
_"You shan't get any better if you don't drink it." She said firmly and turned to tend to another patient._  
_Fred took a seat on the edge of his twin brother's bed "I think the Nosebleed Nougat needs a little work…"_  
_"The antidote does. It wasn't so bad until I took the other capsule to stop it." George reported, downing a glass of water from the pitcher beside his bed._  
_"Didn't work." They said in unison._  
_Fred grinned "At least we didn't test it on a first year first. Probably would have killed the little dears. Don't think I could live with myself killing an innocent first year." He said with a mock faraway look in his cerulean eyes._  
_George laughed "And I suppose you would have been able to live with yourself if you'd killed me?" He raised an eyebrow._  
_The older twin looked at him curiously "You are not innocent, Georgie-boy. But, no, I wouldn't."_  
_The other sighed and propped himself up against his pillows. He could read the fear his twin was trying to hide as plainly as if he had screamed it to the world "You were really scared weren't you, Fred?"_  
_Fred sighed and nodded "You were deathly white, George, and the blood wasn't stopping. I was terrified." He admitted and held his hand beside George's to emphasize how much paler his twin was at the present. "See?"_  
_George smiled and clapped his brother on the shoulder "Stop being so melancholy…I'm alright, mate."_  
_"You weren't a few hours ago. Promise you won't scare me like that again."_  
_They stared at each other a moment before the younger sighed and made the promise he knew he probably couldn't keep. "I promise."_  
_Fred smiled sadly, he knew that it was a promise neither of them could ever keep, especially in their line of expertise. At that moment Madam Pomfrey reappeared and promptly began to shoo Fred away from George "You can come back tomorrow. Now out!"_  
_George grinned as Fred stood "Oi, Fred?"_  
_"Hmm?" Fred spun around and began walking backwards out of the hospital wing as George called to him._  
_"You're testing the Puking Pastilles!"_

_xxxXxxx_

There it was again, another flash of light. George groaned and felt his forehead and cheeks, he was burning. He blinked…hold on…he really had seen that flash, and it wasn't green.  
He lifted his face and edged off the bed slowly. The wood was refreshingly cool on his bare feet as he took a few hesitant steps toward the wardrobe which was open a crack. He slipped his fingers into the gap and waited a second before throwing it open. There was nothing there. He narrowed his eyes and found his wand slowly he peered out of the bedroom, the door swung outwards. They were behind the door. That must be it… he thought and waited a few seconds before pushing the door straight towards the wall. It didn't hit the wall…a gasp came from between door and wall. George bared his teeth and swung it away, pointing his wand at whatever had a moment ago been hidden.

As he did so, the person Disapparated but the twin could have sworn with a horrible sinking feeling that he had seen a large camera clutched in the talons that were fingernails._  
_


	9. The Prophet

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Nine**

**The Prophet**

He suffered another awkward family visit the following day by none other than his mother. His mind still horribly shaken by the nightmare, all he could see when he looked into his mother's face was that sadistic smirk she wore as she watched him die; he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes once.  
She had burst into tears the moment she saw him in the shop and thrown herself around her son, kissing his cheeks and examining his pale skin and gaunt figure.  
He chanced a glance across the table at her over a cup of tea and quickly looked back at the wood when he saw her watching him, on the verge of tears again.  
"George…have you been eating?" She asked somewhat hesitantly, as though fearful he would explode if not handled with care.  
He shrugged "Yeah. I've been-" he cut himself off abruptly, he couldn't tell her he'd been sick and hung over more often than not. She'd only want him to come home even more.  
Molly never once took her eyes of her forlorn looking son; her kind face seemed to have become more wrinkled and aged another five years in the past months she had been without George.  
"It's Christmas soon, Georgie." She raised her cup to her mouth, never moving her brown eyes.  
He still wouldn't look her in the eyes and only nodded "I know."  
"You will come home won't you?"  
He didn't need to look at her to know her eyes were filling with tears yet again, George bit his lip "I don't know…I don't-I don't really…." He trailed off.  
"Please, come home, Georgie. We all miss you terribly. It's Christmas, a time for family…you can't be alone on Christmas." She persisted, reaching out and taking her son's hand firmly as though afraid he would fall away and be lost forever if she let go. She really did fear that her son seemed to be drifting too far into darkness to return.  
George wanted nothing more than to be alone in his flat for Christmas. But he knew there was no way he would be able to avoid Christmas at the Burrow.  
"Oh, my boy…" she stroked his hand lovingly "Come home."  
For the first time that day George looked his mother directly in the eyes, seeing not the evil hatred but warmth and concern, and a little fear. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded "Just for Christmas…"  
Molly flew from her chair knocking it to the ground in her hurry and embraced her son tightly. "Thank you, Georgie…" she kissed his hair gently and then relinquished her hold slightly "Christmas is in a few days. You'll come home with me now?"  
"Mum….I don't think-"  
"Nonsense, George. Simply close up the shop until after Christmas. Please come home…" Her warm eyes were so pleading that despite himself George sighed and nodded grudgingly.

xxxXxxx

George hated it…it had only been an hour and already he wanted to be back in the same boring walls that were his flat. He had told Verity that Wheezes would be closed until after Christmas and put a sign in the window to inform the public.  
He had arrived to an empty Burrow except for his mother and sister and spent the time wandering around aimlessly through the garden, kicking a few gnomes that dared to approach him.  
He cast an aimless glance towards the clock on the mantelpiece. Noting that they had not had Fred's hand taken off, it now remained completely stationary at 'Lost', he examined his own hand which seemed to be constantly switching between joining his twin at 'Lost' and 'Mortal Peril'. The latter, he supposed was likely the cause of his mother's panic. He scoffed and blinked as Percy's hand switched from 'Work' to 'Travelling' and then a moment later, spun around to 'Home'.  
He glanced back at his feet where they rested on the arm of the couch and raised one eyebrow as Percy entered and stopped short when he saw George.  
Without so much as a word of greeting he strode of the George and dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet on his chest. "Read it." He said without emotion and promptly dropped down into the arm chair opposite his brother.  
George said nothing but picked up the paper and unfolded it, cursing loudly at the front page. In big bold letters it read:

**WEASLEY WIZARD WACKY?  
Rita Skeeter Reports**

Directly beneath the head line was just what he had feared, a photograph of himself sitting cross legged and shirtless on his bed, rocking backwards and forwards and obviously sweating. George threw the paper down in disgust. "I knew it was her…that foul gargoyle!" He hollered. A loud crash sounded from the kitchen and Mrs Weasley popped her head into the living room and glared at him. Percy just said "Keep reading."  
Much as he did not want to, the twin began to read the article that would undoubtedly bring about his humiliation.

_**Dearest Readers,**_

_I have taken it upon myself to look into the well fare of the bereaved since that single day many months ago. One of those I thought to be of my highest priorities was one who had lost his own brother. And not only a brother, but his identical twin brother. Naturally this wizard so obviously in need of my kind advice and tender listening is none other than the cofounder of the highly successful joke shop, George Weasley.  
I am horrified and disappointed to report that the Weasley you thought you knew is on an extremely dark downward spiral into what one can only guess is depression and darkness. George Weasley (as pictured in one of his depressions) was kind enough to grant me this one on one interview and allow me to extract the truth.  
When asked how he dealt with the painful loss of Frederick Weasley (pictured below with his twin in their second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry), Mr Weasley attempted to hide the bottle of Firewhisky and, through a voice thick with tears, assure me that he was dealing well and did not need alcohol to replace the gaping hole in his heart. Of course I knew better, how many grieving wizards who are supposedly 'fine' drink a bottle of Firewhisky every night after all? Following this poor attempt to reassure me, Mr Weasley promptly dissolved into tears, declaring that he was unable to cope with the loss and feared for his own sanity. I kindly offered that perhaps he felt responsible for the death of his beloved brother and, appreciating the Prophet's concern for his health, honestly answered that he believed that he was responsible for Frederick's tragic end. Immediately following this confession, George Weasley leapt to his feet and began tearing apart his own kitchen as though he were searching in vain for something. I believe that the poor dear was so overcome he could not bear to be still, he, it was sorry to see, was losing his mind.  
Later when asked why he had been pushing his family far away from him, this young wizard replied with "I don't want to be helped." This alone proves that he has slipped into a dark abyss of deceit, alcohol and depression, in a rut far too deep for his loved ones to help him out of._

_He was later heard sobbing and crying out loud to no one that he was 'So sorry!' and begging for his lost twin to return.  
Who did this young man think he was speaking to? Why was he sorry? Will George allow himself to be helped in this difficult time or will he go the same way as Freddie?_

_**Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet.**_

Directly beneath the article was another photo, this time of both twins. They were twelve and in their second year at Hogwarts. Their arms slung over each other's shoulders grinning and flourishing their matching beaters clubs at the camera._  
_The rage bubbling up in George's gut exploded with a vengeance, he furiously flung the paper hard across the room with a bellow where it was dodged by the cat, hissing and spitting angrily, fire blazing in his blue eyes. "THAT IGNORANT, SCHEMING SNAKE IN THE GRASS! BLOODY COW!" he ranted on, using language Fred would have been extremely proud of. Percy leapt from his chair and physically had to throw George back onto the couch to stop him smashing every breakable object in the house.  
"HIS NAME IS NOT FREDERICK!" George raged, wrenching at the cords that bound his arms to his sides, courtesy of his elder brother.  
His mother flew into the room, her eyes wide with horror at George's sudden berserk rampage. "George! Watch your mouth!" She berated furiously, the concern flowing from her face in waves.  
"Mum! Help him! He can't calm down!" Percy cried, putting all his strength into keeping his brother seated, now beginning to panic.

xxxXxxx

_The adrenaline pumped through his veins as he flew low on his broom beside Lupin, it was a terrifying thrill being chased by a good four Death Eaters. The older member of the Order fired a curse over his shoulder and dived to dodge one sent back. George chanced a glance over his own shoulder and pushed the glasses back up his nose with one hand. He yelled and ducked as a jet of green light rushed over his head.  
"Here!" Remus cried from below George who course corrected and dived to follow him.  
The wind rushed violently past their ears and George had to duck to avoid the dark hooves of the Thestral bearing Kingsley and Hermione as it flew screeching over them. His mind wild with fear for the safety of the others, George fired a curse from under his arm without aiming at all and laughed out loud when he heard an unfamiliar cry of pain from a Death Eater close behind him. It was sheer luck that it had hit.  
The next thing he registered was a louder cry of pain that sounded much closer, he looked toward Remus in panic but when he saw the terror mirrored in Lupin's eyes he realised that Lupin hadn't been hit and that the cry of pain was in fact his own. Only then did he register the sticky warmth of the blood that was pouring down his neck. His vision faltered and he reached a shaking hand to his head, grabbing for his ear. He couldn't find it.  
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap….bloody hell! Damnit! Fred! You'd better be alright!  
His eyes began to droop closed and he let a low moan escape his lips as his broom tilted sharply down toward to ground. He felt himself falling, unable to focus on anything but the blinding pain. A sharp cry of "NO!" Let him know that Remus was diving to rescue him. A firm hand grasped the collar of his robes and he vaguely felt himself being dragged onto the other broom.  
The adrenaline was gone now, there was nothing but pain and fear, fear for his life, fear for Remus, fear for everyone else. His world began to go black as he heard Lupin crying loudly "SNAPE!"  
You evil git….George thought as he began to lose consciousness.  
Fred. Help me…._

xxxXxxx

George opened his eyes slowly, blinking to relieve his vision of the blurriness. He turned his head to find his mother in the armchair staring worriedly at him. His forehead felt cooler and he reached up, withdrawing a damp cloth. He looked to the side to find an empty glass there "What was that?"  
Molly smiled and moved to kneel beside George she lovingly hand a hand through her son's hair "A calming drought…I'd never seen you so angry…you terrified Percy and Ginny."  
George stared at the ceiling "It-It was like I couldn't stop it. I couldn't calm down if even I tried…"  
He spotted the paper lying on a pile of books beside the armchair. "You read it?"  
She nodded sadly, a tear springing to her eye. "Georgie…"  
"She's gone too far this time…" he muttered darkly.  
A tear slowly slid from her loving brown eye "George…do you want our help?" She asked outright, holding his hand pleadingly.  
George was completely taken aback by that and pushed himself into a sitting position. "Mum…" he pulled his hand away "I don't wanna talk."  
At that moment, the front door swung open, revealing a weather beaten Arthur Weasley. He paused and shook off the snow from his coat and caught sight of his son. He froze for a moment then hurried over.  
"George." He hugged his son tightly "How are you, son?" He asked, reluctantly releasing him.  
George didn't reply immediately and looked at his mother for a moment "I'm alright."

xxxXxxx

The few days leading up to Christmas were uneventful more or less. Harry and Hermione both arrived on Christmas Eve, each one as surprised as the other to see George out of the shop. He began to regain a little colour in his cheeks but the light stayed out of his eyes and his hand on the clock remained beside his twin's at 'Lost'.

xxxXxxx

"_Fred, wake up! Wake up!" George cried impatiently jumping on the bundle beneath the covers that was his twin.  
Fred groaned and kicked him "Too early!"  
"It's Christmas!" The younger six-year old insisted and began to pull the blankets off his brother.  
Fred shot upright, knocking his twin to the floor. "Well come on then!" He cried, taking the stairs two at a time.  
Little Ron was already sitting on the couch, fiddling with the ties on a present. "Ron!" George cried in mock astonishment, making the four-year old yelp and drop the present, his lip quivering.  
Fred grinned and ruffled his baby brother's hair "Its ok, Ronnie…" He promptly snatched up two presents from the small pile and tossed one to George who studied it for a moment, exchanged glances with Fred and swapped the presents. They did this every year they would always try to sneak a present.  
Little Ron glowered at his brothers "Can I have one too?"  
"When you're six like us!" George promised.  
Ronald whimpered "I'm telling!" And with that he threw back his head and opened his mouth to scream for his parents.  
Fred leapt at him and clapped a hand over his little brother's mouth "Oh no you won't he growled."  
Ron's eyes filled with tears and he cried out louder "Mummy!"  
George growled and threw a cushion at him as his mother rushed down the stairs in her dressing gown. "Fred! Don't throw things at Ron!"  
"I'm George!"  
"I'm Fred!" They cried.  
Their mother was not impressed as she caught sight of the presents. "At it again are you?" She whisked them out of the twins' hand with a wave of her wand. "Back to bed! All of you! It's five in the morning!" She growled. "No presents for you boys until much later!"  
Grudgingly the twins plodded back up the stairs glaring at innocent little 'Ronnie'._

xxxXxxx


	10. Merry Christmas

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Ten**

**Merry Christmas**

_And maybe, I'll find out  
A way to make it back someday  
To-wards you, to guide you, through the darkest of your days  
If a great wave shall fall yeah fall upon us all  
Well then I hope there's someone out there  
who can bring me back to you  
-__**Wherever You Will Go- The Calling**_

xxxXxxx

Charlie arrived first on Christmas morning, whilst they were all eating breakfast, or in George's case staring moodily at the array of bacon, eggs and sausages without touching them. He waltzed into the kitchen completely unannounced much to the surprise of the Weasleys plus two. Charlie threw off his cloak looking remarkably like his father as he did so to reveal an arm that looked suspiciously charred. His mother clucked her tongue "Those dragons…honestly Charlie, they'll be the death of you." Her voice faltered a little but she tried to brush it off, ignoring the looks on her children's faces.  
George grunted a little as she said that but got to his feet to hug his brother welcome. "You look thin, George. You alright?" The elder asked, taking a step back to get a good look at his younger brother's appearance.  
George nodded "Fine."  
"He hasn't been eating much." Ginny replied honestly, ignoring the glare George shot her.  
Charlie's expression softened considerably and he half smiled in understanding, he was certainly not pushing the point at the moment. He turned to the heavily laden table of food, his eyes lighting up hungrily as he dropped into a chair and dug into the bacon.

Bill and Fleur didn't appear until almost lunchtime, the latter sporting a considerable belly at six months pregnant. It was only when he saw the couple striding up the path towards the house did George realise that although Fred's hand had not been taken off the clock another hand bearing Fleur's face had been added to it.  
Looking positively radiant she greeted Charlie, Harry and Hermione warmly before approaching George. Thankfully and surprisingly it did not seem her eyes were clouded with concern like everyone else's seemed to be and to his immense appreciation she greeted him just the same as she had the others. That may well have been just what he needed, for someone to just once treat him like he wasn't about to explode at the slightest touch.

xxxXxxx

Hermione turned from her conversation with Ginny about Hogwarts as a small flicker of movement caught her eye. A copy of the Daily Prophet, several days old by the look of it, sat discarded on a rather unsteady pile of books. Ginny followed her gaze and gasped "It's still there?"  
The older witch frowned and reached out to pick it up, despite Ginny's pleas not to read it. Ron, a few paces away snatched the paper from his girlfriend's fingers immediately.  
"Hermione…you shouldn't read it."  
"Ron…." She began warningly. He did not relent and held it up out of her reach the expression in his face determined.  
He spun around as George appeared behind him with a raised eyebrow. He grunted "You may as well let her read it. Everyone else has." He said expressionlessly and leant against the doorframe.  
Ron's jaw dropped, distracting him enough for Hermione to snatch the paper from his fingers and flick it open.  
"3-2-1…" George rolled his eyes as the witch gasped in horror.  
"That…that…cow! How dare she!" Hermione exploded after reading the headline and examining the photo "She even took a photo while you were in BED!"  
George blushed, just what he needed, everyone to see him at what had quite possibly been one of his most vulnerable moments. "Gets even better." He grunted moodily and stalked away, having no desire to face anyone who read the article.

Depressingly by lunchtime it seemed that Hermione, Harry, Charlie, Bill and Fleur had all caught up on the vicious attack on George by Rita Skeeter. He gave up any attempt to eat as his throat constricted rather tightly and he resumed his silent brooding. Occasionally glancing through into the living room at the clock, half hoping and almost expecting Fred's hand to spin slowly back around to point to 'Home'. No such luck. Both the twin hands remained stationary at 'Lost'.  
A loud bang shook the table as Ron and Ginny pulled a cracker. From it leapt two live rabbits and a packet of chocolate cauldrons to Ginny's delight.  
Bill eyed George across the table between bites of turkey, he was severely shaken by what he had read and did not at all like the way Skeeter had stated that she'd 'extracted the truth'. He knew that not everything she had reported about his brother was true but even Rita Skeeter didn't dodge the whole truth there was always a basis on which she built her lies. He couldn't help but wonder just how much of the article was close to the truth as he examined his brother's expressionless face. Would the light ever return to his eyes that had shined brighter than anything else while Fred was alive?

George had begun to reason that perhaps spending Christmas at the Burrow would be a good thing; perhaps it would distract him from dwelling on the memory of Fred. He laughed at himself now, why he had begun to believe that he had no idea. He wasn't happy here, his entire family was treating him with such caution and care that he felt like a newborn baby again. It was driving him crazy…and on Christmas Day too.

xxxXxxx

As usual there was far too much food for the eleven of them to eat and by seven that evening they were spread out variously around the fire, the snow beginning to fall heavier outside.  
Ron it seemed had cunningly hung mistletoe without his mother's knowledge and was making it painfully obvious that he was trying the get Hermione to stand in that one particular spot. She only glowered at him and refused to speak to her boyfriend for a good half hour.  
At that moment Molly produced the usual pile of Weasley jumpers and George felt a lump rise in his throat and a horrible sinking feeling struck his gut. He had no presents to give…he felt horrible. He flushed a little and she saw this, smiling fondly and assuring him that his present to her was Christmas with his family.  
Slowly he unwrapped the familiar, bulky package along with his siblings, Harry and Hermione. Each removed wrapping revealing a different jumper. He smiled gratefully at his mother and spread his blue jumper out in his lap; he blinked for a moment at the unfamiliar sight. His jumper had always had a golden G embroidered in the middle while his brother's matching one had an F. There was no gold G on this jumper. He blinked away the tear that was threatening to fall; he would not let his family see him cry, and looked up to meet his mother's anxious face.  
He smiled a little "Thanks, Mum."  
She relaxed visibly and smiled back.

Eleven glasses of eggnog floated over to the eleven people seated around, quivering in front of them and knocking themselves against the side of the person's head if they didn't take the glass right away.  
Charlie, already wearing his Weasley sweater, got to his feet. "A toast."  
Everyone dragged themselves to their feet Ginny did so somewhat reluctantly, not wishing to move from her comfortable position leaning against Harry's knees.  
"To family…" he paused and glanced at George out of the corner of his eye before smiling sadly and holding his glass high added "Merry Christmas, Fred."  
As one, the rest of the inhabitants raised their eggnog soberly and repeated the words "Merry Christmas, Fred." As one they raised the drink to their lips and drank.

George didn't look at Charlie as they sat down, he couldn't bring himself to look anywhere but into the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it around to watch it swish up the sides.  
_Merry Christmas._  
George jumped violently and sent eggnog spilling over his shirt as the voice of Fred in his Head appeared for the first time in weeks.  
'Fred? Fred!'  
_Christmas is a time for family. I couldn't leave you now could I?  
_George could have grinned. He was back.  
'Do you hate me now? After what I said to….' He couldn't even bring himself to think her name.  
Fred took a long time to reply but George knew he replied honestly.  
_I don't hate you. I hate what you've become. I hate what that cow's been saying. I hate that she's been telling the truth basically! You think it's not killing me all over again to watch you slowly dying?  
_'I'm not dying!'  
_You are actually.  
_With that, Fred in his Head fell silent and said nothing more.

"George?"  
George vaguely became aware of Ron shaking his shoulder, he snapped out of his mind and lifted his face "What?"  
"You completely zoned out, you just jumped then did nothing else." Ron frowned "You ok?"  
George wrenched his shoulder out of his grip and put the glass aside, muttering a spell under his breath and the stains removed themselves. "I'm fine. Stop it!" he snapped and turned to look at everyone "That goes for all of you. Stop treating me like I'm two! I'm ten times that age!"  
Hermione gasped and scrambled to her feet in front of George.  
She stood on tip toe and sniffed "George…have you been drinking?"  
Percy's face snapped up in worry as George glared at the young witch "So what if I have? Hasn't affected me none."  
Ron put an arm around her "Don't talk to her like that!"  
"George…" Both Bill and Arthur rose in unison and took a few steps toward the twin.  
"You wanna know how I really am?" He said, taking a step backwards, beginning to tremble a little. Vaguely he noticed his hand on the clock was now pointing to 'Mortal Peril' as he continued "You really sure you wanna know? Fine. I'll tell you."  
He spun to face his mother "How do you think I am, Mum? Think I'm getting better living here with you?" He asked, his voice soft.  
Slowly, Mrs Weasley nodded, tears threatening to fall from her eyes any moment. Beside her, Ginny was looking much the same, clinging to Harry's hand.  
The former twin shook his head firmly "I'm not any better at all. I'll tell you how I feel, seeing as you all care so much. I feel bloody empty, I'm a shell. I think the real George died along with Fred. And, that cow…" he shot a vicious glance at Rita Skeeter's broadly smiling face on the 'Prophet' and levitated the paper into the fire. "She's not entirely wrong, you know."  
"George, shut up…." Percy muttered, his face had dropped into his hands and his horn rimmed glasses now rested atop his red curls.  
"No! You lot are so concerned about my state of health so I'm gonna fill you in." George snapped "I hear Fred's voice. I heard him not five minutes ago! Maybe I am losing it, maybe I'm drunk I dunno!" He cried aloud "I really do wish….I don't want any help from anyone!"  
A stunned silence overcame the room, to his right Hermione and Ron both gaped at him open mouthed, Harry beside them, looked as though he never wanted to set eyes on the twin again. Ginny had tears falling silently down her face as she listened to her brother's confession. Percy held his head in his hands and shook it in disbelief silently while over by the fireplace had dropped his glass which rested in hundreds of pieces on the floor. Molly was sobbing softly behind her hand, her husband beside her with his arms around her and staring at his son. Bill, still standing had one hand over his mouth in disbelief and Fleur behind him had her eyes closed sadly.

xxxXxxx

George took another step back, walking into a stool "Hmm? I don't want help. So please just leave off!"  
To everyone's surprise Fleur had made her way slowly over to George tears in her eyes. "I am sorry." She whispered and then raised her right hand and…  
_**WHACK!**_ She slapped him hard across his cheeks. The force of the blow sent him staggering to the side to regain balance and he openly gaped at her somewhat fearfully.  
Everyone's attention was on Fleur as she looked George in the eye firmly "Shut. Up." Was all she said before turning and stalking back to her seat. Bill edged away from his wife as she approached as though he feared that she would slap him too.

George stared at his brother's wife in complete shock. She had slapped him…she had _**slapped**_ him. He had needed it, he knew but still….wow… he blinked and with a final look around the room at his family. He disappeared upstairs, slamming his bedroom door loudly.

xxxXxxx

George lay unmoving, face down on his bed for several moments. He felt nothing, he couldn't even remember breathing though he must have done. He slowly turned his face and stared to his left across the room. A bright glint caught his eye from under a pile of clothes at the far end of the room. Reluctantly he lifted his wand and pointed it at the objects, murmuring "Accio." It gave a feeble jump at first but then flew into George's hand.  
He remembered, so many months ago…it was a shard of the mirror he had broken after the funeral. Afraid of what he might see he looked into the reflective surface and almost dropped it again.  
Fred was there, in all his two-eared glory glaring at his twin solemnly.  
George could have cried with relief that Fred had come back to him.  
"Fred?"  
_Well done._  
The living half of the pair frowned and glanced down at the cover, a tear sliding down his nose. "I'm sorry…"  
_Congratulations, George. You single-handily just ruined Christmas._


	11. Strength

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Strength**

_But when I need you, you're Almost Here,  
And I know that's not enough,  
And when I'm with you, I'm close to tears,  
Cause you're only Almost Here  
__**Almost Here-Brian McFadden/Delta Goodrem**_

xxxXxxx

George didn't hang around the next morning, not even for breakfast. He appeared in the kitchen very briefly to mutter a goodbye to most of his family who sat around the table. Ginny, Hermione, Percy and his father all refused to look at him. Half afraid of what they would see in his eyes. It was just as well, he didn't think he would be able to look them in the eyes. His mother however silently rose from her seat and hugged George tightly, really not wanting to let him go, sure that if she did, her son would disappear into darkness and never return.  
He hugged her back and muttered an "I'm sorry…" before disentangling himself from her arms and stepping back into the living room.  
The clock on the mantle sat completely stationary, no hands were moving, all but the twins' hands pointed safely on 'Home', Fred's still on 'Lost' and would be forever, George's rested unwaveringly on 'Mortal Peril.' He spared one final glance at it, waved a goodbye over his shoulder to his family and Disapparated.

xxxXxxx

He felt better when he arrived back in his flat. It was better not to have ten people breathing down his neck about how he felt, trying to get him to talk and then getting offended when he did. A flicker of white caught his eye and he turned to find a scrap of parchment on the table.

_George,  
I read the article...George, why'd you talk to her? It doesn't sound like you at all…  
I haven't seen you in months. How are you?  
Listen, I'll come and visit you soon, and no, you have no choice. I'm coming._

_Lee_

George grunted and tossed the parchment into the wastebasket, the last thing he wanted was another person to fuss and worry about him. He wondered vaguely when Lee had left the note and when he would be back. Not keen for it to be anytime soon after his episode last night.

Finding himself with nothing to do George, only half-heartedly decided to take a walk…he soon wished that he hadn't done so.  
He had completely forgotten that his family were not the only people who read 'The Daily Prophet', most of the wizarding world did and that was obvious as he walked sullenly down the busy Diagon Alley. It was full of people clambering for the post-Christmas sales and bargains, from Eeylop's Owl Emporium to Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, everywhere had customers today.  
George did not fail to notice that everywhere he went people stared at him; some obviously, some actually bothered to try to be discreet.  
He knew he was a topic of conversation amongst gossiping witches and wizards and could not help but catch snatches of conversations as he passed, often said gossipers would hush themselves as they saw him. "The poor dear…."  
"Speaking to no one….crying himself to sleep every night, I heard!"  
"….The poor boy's gone loopy!"  
"Those Weasleys were always a strange lot, always suspected one of them would lose it one day…"  
"Arthur's son…."  
"I heard he _attacked_ a customer in that shop! He's off his head the lad is."  
"…ought to be admitted to St Mungos really…."  
George fought the urge to snarl at these people. He wanted more than anything to yell loudly that they were wrong, Skeeter was wrong. The trouble was that he didn't know if they were wrong at all anymore…except for the attack on a customer. That was completely false in every way.

He sighed and kicked a stray pebble along the cobbled street as he passed Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. Something caught his eye to his right and he paused. He turned his head, a completely blank expression on his pale face, he blinked. A little boy no older than five or six was staring at him through big brown eyes, his ice-cream dripping onto his hand. He couldn't have been old enough to have read the article but there was no doubt he recognized George from his picture.  
He kept staring, George kept staring back. Something about the way the kid didn't avoid him, intrigued the twin and a smile touched his lips as it hadn't done for over twenty-four hours.  
At that moment, the child's mother came out of the building and looked up to see what her son was so interested in. She spotted George, glowered at him and snatched up the kid's hand, pulling him away in a hurry.  
"Better not to go near that man, Jack…" she instructed curtly.  
George felt a horrible pang in his gut as she said that; mother's hurried their children away from him, most people avoided him and witches gossiped about him, pausing only if they saw him and started up again the moment they thought he was out of earshot. A few times he had received a clap on the shoulder by a wizard in an attempt to be reassuring. He hadn't even thought he was that well-known, when Fred was alive they had been very well known. But only as the twins, only as Fred AND George, not individually. Perhaps that was because they were never apart and so it was hard to know them as individuals.  
Was he really crazy? He wondered. It was quite possible now, he lost control of his emotions so easily now, he couldn't keep them in check anymore.  
Arriving back at the shop he saw two boys his own age laughing loudly and pointing at him. One he recognized as Adrian Pucey, a former Slytherin his own age. Seeing him coming, the other boy cried out "Alright there, Wacky?"  
George had just about had it and threateningly withdrew his wand from the pocket of his jeans, quickening his pace. Pucey smirked as George approached them in front of Wheeze's window.  
The Weasley swore as he saw the enlarged, **Weasley Wizard Wacky?** Headline and photograph in the window.  
"Permanent Sticking Charm." Pucey drawled lazily "Don't bother trying."  
George didn't say a word but turned slowly and glared stonily at the former Slytherins. He raised his wand silently and sent a Stinging Jinx at Pucey quicker than you could say 'hex'. He was blasted off his feet and flew a few metres before crashing to the ground with a howl of pain and clutching his face which was rapidly swelling to the size of a watermelon.  
His comrade growled, whipped out his own wand and sent a hex back at George who was too fast for him and deflected it, crying out "_Rictusempra!"  
_His opponent promptly collapsed in a fit of laughter and rolled about, reaching for his discarded wand and clutching his side with the other hand.  
Pucey had dragged himself to his feet, still groaning with pain, hauled his friend up and began to retreat quickly, avoiding the giggles and stares of passers-by.  
George glared icily after them "What're you looking at?" He grunted to a pair of teenage girls who were looking at him a little fearfully.  
He stared morosely at the display in the window and began to mutter various spells under his breath, moving his wand over it. But it didn't budge.

xxxXxxx

George's day went from bad to worse as he descended the staircase leading to the basement of Wheezes. Having made the decision to keep himself busy for the rest of the day working out the bugs in a faulty Invisibility Hat that, instead of making both the hat and the head of the wearer invisible while being worn, kept the head invisible even while it was not being worn.

xxxXxxx

Lee Jordan examined the window of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with disgust. Some people, really!  
He rapped on the door of the closed shop, to no avail and promptly Apparated inside the flat. "George?" He called, totally silence was his only answer and he peered in all the rooms. George wasn't home.  
He was about to give up and come back another day when a great cry of pain echoed from somewhere far below his feet. Panicking, Lee sprinted down the flights of stairs and bolted through the basement door. George was there, clutching his left wrist to his stomach and attempting to steady his wand. Lee cried out in horror at the long gash in his mate's wrist…he was trying to kill himself! He hurried over and wrenched George's wand away.  
"What the hell are you doing?" He shouted his dark eyes wide with fear.  
George gaped at him, the pain momentarily forgotten "Lee?"  
Lee only nodded gruffly and pointed his wand at the bleeding wound, muttering quickly under his breath. Only when the skin had begun to knit itself together and the blood stopped did he allow himself to look up into George's shocked face.  
"WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?" he exploded.  
The Weasley gaped at him and snatched his wrist back before scoffing and making his way out of the basement. Lee hot on his heels.  
"George! Look at me!"  
George spun around "Wha-"  
**WHAM!** Lee had punched him for absolutely no reason. George staggered back, nursing his jaw.  
"WHY DO YOU PEOPLE KEEP HITTING ME? WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" he bellowed, completely shocked.  
Jordan scoffed "What do you think? When you try to kill yourself you gotta expect some reactions!"  
The twin did a double take "What? You-You think I tried to-what the hell, Lee?"  
Now it was Lee's turn for a double take "You mean…you weren't trying to…"  
"No!" he yelled, an expression of utter disbelief on his face "No! I was trying to fix a hat, and I needed to use a **Severing Charm** and I…well I missed!" He explained and then added in an undertone "If I was trying to kill myself I would have succeeded…"  
His friend blinked and had the decency to look ashamed of himself, pretending that he hadn't heard the last part. "Sorry…." He muttered "But you had a big gash in your wrist so obviously I assumed…" he trailed off. He examined the rapidly purpling bruise on George's jaw "Sorry about that…"  
George rolled his eyes and wordlessly made his way back up to his flat with Lee Jordan in tow. "You sure picked a rotten day to pay a visit."  
"I wasn't gonna leave it much longer after I read what Skeeter's been writing about you…I tell you, she'd better shut her mouth before she gets in trouble…"  
George made his way straight into the kitchen and pulled an unmarked bottle from a drawer. He rubbed a little of the contents on his jaw and replaced the stopper. "Drink?" he called to Lee.  
"No thanks." He called back as George sat across from him at the table. "How are you? It's been months."  
"If one more person asks me how I am….." George growled warningly but sighed. He had no desire to repeat himself like he had done last night. He still wasn't sure why he'd told his family everything that he was feeling…well, mostly everything…well, some.  
"I'm not giving you a Grand Tour of George Weasley's Feelings." He said.  
Lee nodded, seeing no point in pressing the point any further. "You're really thin…and pale. How often do you leave the flat?" he asked concernedly.  
George shrugged "Not much, I'm busy."  
"Doing what?" Lee asked sceptically.  
"Store business." George nodded to the pile of paperwork next to him. "There's only one of us to do it now Fred's-" he cut himself off abruptly. He NEVER talked about Fred; he NEVER said his name out loud. "You know."  
"That can't be all you've been doing! Skeeter says you've been…hate to quote her but… pushing your family aside."  
"Bloody hell! What are you, a reporter now?"  
"I'm worried, mate, that's what I am."  
"So I don't spend every waking moment with them? They just don't leave me alone, and that's what I want to be, Lee….**alone**." He glared at the wood of the table and twirled his wand over in his fingers absentmindedly.  
Jordan didn't say anything for a few minutes, he had a feeling that George had something else to say. Which he did.  
"Isn't it supposed to get better with time? The pain?" he murmured, more to himself than to Lee.  
Lee couldn't reply, he looked sadly over his hands at George who was staring down at his fingernails as he continued.  
"Then why does it hurt so damn much?" his voice broke and trembled and it was all he could do to keep from sobbing.  
"George…." Lee reached out a hand and patted his shoulder, the twin shook it off.  
He kicked himself for getting so emotional again, he really did have no control over his mood swings at all.  
"Look…" he lifted his wand "_Expecto Patronum…"_ nothing but a wispy, silvery-blue vapour came from his wand. "I can't even think of a happy memory…it's all gone."  
The twins' best friend beside each other felt awful. He knew George wasn't doing so well but he never imagined…it wasn't right, to look at George and see only George without Fred there beside him. It was like…a fish without water or a scarless Harry. Just wrong.  
"I just…I wish…"George hiccupped "It had been me…I wish I had died and Fred had lived. He would be able to deal with it. Fred was always the strong one…"  
George was seriously depressed. Lee was honestly beginning to doubt if George was still be alive in one year's time…  
Suddenly the twin's tear streaked face lifted to look at Jordan who vaguely became aware of the tears slipping down his own cheeks. "I'm gonna go sleep." He muttered and stood "Bye, Lee."  
With that George disappeared into the bedroom, swinging the door closed behind him and leaving a bewildered Lee feeling awful.

xxxXxxx

George had every intention of sleeping, it was just a matter of getting to the bed without collapsing. The three steps suddenly felt like three miles and his head felt as light as anything. George groaned and managed one step toward his bed before falling in dead faint, overcome with exhaustion.

The silver fox emerged from beneath the bed and made its way to the wizard. It gently rolled George onto his back, grasped the back of his jacket and pulled him to the bed. Jumping lithely onto the bed and pulling the dead weight of the sleeping twin behind it. With that, it tucked it's head beneath George's arm and whined sadly.

_You were always the strong one…._  
_  
_


	12. Pillowcase

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twelve**

**Pillowcase**

_For one so small, you seem so strong,  
My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm,  
This bond between us can't be broken,  
I will be here don't you cry,  
__**You'll Be In My Heart- Phil Collins**_

xxxXxxx

"_Fred and George, you know the hidden passages best you guard those. Percy, go with Fred." Arthur instructed, nodded at each of his sons in turn. George opened his mouth to object  
"What? No, I'm staying with Fred, Dad."  
"It'll be more strategic for you both to separate, cover more ground." His father insisted.  
George turned to his twin, expecting him to object as well but Fred remained silent and only nodded to George. Signalling that their father was right, they needed to split up for once. _

_Fred, George and Percy left the Room of Requirement one by one and waited for each other at the other end of the staircase. George brought up the rear his cloak billowing around his ankles as they hurried along the corridor silently, he didn't like this. He didn't like this at all, he was going to be separated from Fred and the only times any serious harm came upon either of them was when they were not together.  
Fred flattened himself against the wall and motioned for his brothers to do the same behind him, to their immense relief the Death Eater continued straight and did not turn. Had he done so, the Weasleys would have been dead faster than you could say 'Quidditch'.  
Sharing his brother's discomfort, Fred spun to face George and pulled him out of earshot of Percy who blinked at them puzzled for a moment then returned to watching.  
"I don't like this any more than you do, George." He began "Dad's right though, it's better this way. Look…" he paused, looking into the identical eyes of his brother that mirrored his own fear "There's everything chance we-we won't all make it…"  
"Fred-"  
"No, shut up and let me finish." He cut George off and continued "There's every chance I won't make it…but we'll win. I'm sure of that…"  
"Fred…Fred, you just said there's every chance that you won't make it…"  
"That's right, and if something happens…" Fred could barely finish the sentence, he was far too busy trying not to let the tears fall "If-If I don't-well…you know…I want you to promise me something…"  
George had stopped listening "Fred, don't talk like that! We'll be fine!"  
His twin sighed and grabbed George's shoulders, forcing him to listen "Oi! Shut it and listen! I need you to do this, George, it's gonna sound really, really stupid but I need you to do it."  
"What are you two doing? Hurry up!" Percy hissed, waving them over madly.  
George ignored him "Bloody hell, Fred! So being so melodramatic, you're not going to die like this!" he couldn't keep the panic from his voice. They never spoke like that, especially Fred, always so light-hearted and sarcastic. His absent ear began to throb painfully but he ignored it "It's not right…"  
Fred glanced toward the stressing Percy and back to George. Tears in his eyes, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen tonight, something that would shake their family apart forever. By rights he had no reason to feel like that but he did.  
"Come on, please!" Percy insisted, sweat coating his brow.  
Fred glanced back at his gaping twin and, shaking a little, threw his arms around his younger brother by two minutes, finally allowing himself to cry.  
George hugged his twin, tears in his own eyes. If Fred was crying something had to be very wrong. But nothing was going to happen, they would be fine, maybe come out of the battle with scars and bruises but they would both come out alive. They had to and they would…wouldn't they?  
Fred released his twin, muttering a single word under his breath "Pillowcase." With one last look at George, Fred pushed his twin in the other direction and ran off after Percy. _

xxxXxxx

George awoke with a start surprised to find himself on the bed. He distinctly remembered fainting on the floor…if it was possible to remember fainting. His left arm felt oddly warm as though something had been beneath it all night and he looked down, half expecting to find something there, there was nothing. Then it hit him, it was the first time he ever thought about it since that day. Fred's last word to him had been 'pillowcase'. Who used the last word they would ever speak in life to their twin in saying 'Pillowcase'?  
George rolled off the bed and grunted, deciding not to reopen the shop until after he removed the **'Weasley Wizard Wacky?' **from the window. The twins had developed a potion that would reverse the effects of a Permanent Sticking Charm, but where was it?  
He sighed, and examined the marks the sleeves of his jacket had imprinted in his wrists before pulling off the offending garment and catching sight of the tender scar on his left wrist. He rubbed it gently, damn Invisible Hats and their invisibility…has he even been holding the hat? He couldn't remember and an awful feeling gurgled in his gut. What if Lee had been right? What if in a fit of depression he really had lost control and tried to kill himself? He did say that he could have succeeded…George felt slightly sick at the thought. Yes, there were times he didn't see any point in living a twinless life and he really wished he were dead but still…the thought of actually ending his own life was very confronting.  
He yawned, changed his clothes quickly and made his way into the kitchen. His stomach growled loudly and George blushed even though he was alone. He probably needed to eat something by now. After a fifteen-hour sleep, one works up an appetite.

Several pieces of toast later, the twin had made his way slowly downstairs to begin his search for the potion.

xxxXxxx

All through the day George was plagued by the memory of the last conversation he had had with his brother, the last words either of them had spoken to the other. He tried to shake it, tried to stop thinking it but he couldn't. It was like Fred was in his head just shouting 'pillowcase' over and over again. But he wasn't. He had a feeling Fred in his Head wasn't coming back for a while after George had gone off his head at his family. Earning a well-deserved sharp slap from Fleur. He supposed now that he ought to apologize to his family. He must have scared them terribly. One good thing might have come of it though, his family might now be too overcome and shocked by his confession to come and bother him again.  
How wrong he was.

George was sick of it. Lee yesterday, his whole family for a few days before that and now Bill and Fleur had come to interrogate him. Bill AND Fleur.  
They were sitting around the ground floor of the shop, cups of tea in their hands, Fleur smiling wistfully occasionally as the baby visibly kicked.  
The first words out of Bill's mouth were "You really scared us on Christmas, you know that?"  
George grunted, "Knew you'd say that."  
"George, you might as well have been saying that you were planning on killing yourself." Bill frowned.  
The twin glanced at Fleur who was focusing on something, a slight frown on her face. Too late did he realise what she was looking at and pushed down his sleeve to cover his wrist. Bill's wife snatched his hand and pushed the sleeve back, gasping.  
"Bill!"  
Bill frowned and leaned over to get a look, his blue eyes widened "George!"  
His brother sighed and pulled his wrist from their grip "It's not what it looks like!"  
"Bloody hell! You really did try to kill yourself!" The oldest Weasley child was on his feet, his beverage overturned at his feet. He had had it with his brother, this was just WAY too much.  
"Suicide, George? You think that's the way to end it all?" tears were beginning to spring up into his eyes now…he had almost lost another brother forever "Think of the rest of your family please, George!"  
"Don't give me that cliché crap!" George shouted, on his own feet now and level with his elder brother "Firstly, that scar there was an accident! I wasn't attempting suicide! Secondly, it's none of your damn business, Bill, how I deal with grief! Maybe I do feel like killing myself sometimes! Doesn't mean I'll do it!"  
"It's entirely my business, George! I'm your brother! Do you think I, or anyone else in our family, would be able to cope if you died too? Fred would not want this!"  
"You don't know what he would want!" George cried, angry tears streaming down his cheeks "He was MY twin, MY best friend! YOU don't know what he wanted!"  
Bill's voice softened and quavered "I don't think you did either."  
Fleur, who until then had sat through the shouting match silently on the ground, leapt to her feet and conjured a protective shield, forcing them apart. "ENOUGH!" She cried loudly. "THAT'S ENOUGH! You are brothers, you should not be fighting!" She too was crying but she didn't seem to notice "George! You are being extremely unfair! Stop it at once! Bill! Just leave him!"  
Both Bill and George blinked down at her in shock for several moments before backing away from each other; George pushed down his sleeve with a grunt and looked away.  
"Sorry…" he murmured but didn't look at his brother. He stood by what he had said. Bill didn't know what Fred wanted, how could he? The twins had told each other literally everything, however insignificant. George knew exactly what he would have wanted. Seriously? Pillowcase?  
Bill said nothing. He did not entirely believe that his brother really had tried to kill himself but nor did he believe that it had been entirely an accident. He was starting to get really scared now though. After George's confession at the Burrow…now this…when Fred was alive the both of them had plenty of patience. Except maybe for Percy. Now George could barely go a conversation without losing his temper over something or other.  
Fleur glared at the both of them for a minute before slowly lowering her wand and ending the spell, the invisible shield dissolved into nothingness.  
"Now…be civil…" she warned.  
Her husband slowly lowered himself back to his seat on a stool and didn't try to meet George's eyes again.  
Much slower, George allowed himself to relax slightly but he remained standing. "Did you come for anything else other than to scold me for my behaviour." He asked sarcastically.  
Husband and wife exchanged a glance and Fleur turned back to George. "Yes we did actually…I think you should ask him, Bill."  
Bill looked up, focusing on a point just beyond George's missing left ear "When Fleur has the baby…we want you to be the godfather."  
George blinked, that wasn't what he had been expecting. "Huh? Really?"  
Fleur nodded.  
The twin smiled slightly, he thought he would have been the last person to be asked. What child wants a depressed godfather after all? He nodded "Thanks. I'd like that…" and he really would like to be his future niece or nephew's godfather, he just didn't know if he would be a good one.  
Bill got to his feet again and placed a hand on his younger brother's shoulder "I thought you'd like that." He smiled slightly and slung his cloak around his shoulders. "We should get going…hey, let us know alright?"  
George didn't need the whole sentence to know what Bill meant. He grunted in acknowledgement. Quite glad that they were leaving, not that he had much else to do until he found that potion…

xxxXxxx

George heaved a great sigh and toppled backwards onto his bed, he had a raging headache, the cause of which he could not trace. Just one day, he pleaded. Just ONE DAY without any 'visitors'. Just ONE DAY he wanted to be completely alone.  
He had sent an owl to Verity telling her Wheezes would not be reopening until further notice and not to bother coming in.  
It was hardly lunchtime and George was completely out of energy already.  
Pillowcase? Why pillowcase?  
A sudden thought struck him and he rolled over onto his stomach, lifted his head from the pillow and peered at it curiously for a moment. "Why am I doing this?" he muttered to himself and stuck his hand inside the pillowcase.  
Nothing. But what had he expected? Fred's last will and testimony? Because they hadn't made wills and even if they had it would be pointless anyway.  
He scoffed at himself and dropped his head into the pillow wondering how long it would take him to suffocate.  
After a few moments he groaned, Fred's lat word to him was not going to leave his mind anytime soon it seemed. He rolled off his bed and crossed the two metres to Fred's. It hadn't been touched even once since Fred had left it for the last time.  
His fingers trembling slightly George picked up the pillow. It was cold…cold as death; almost as cold as Fred himself had been in death.  
He slipped his hand inside the white pillowcase and felt his throat constrict painfully. There was something in there beside the pillow. It was rectangular in shape and George drew it out slowly, dropping it immediately as though it burned him.  
Lowering the pillow back onto the mattress, the twin bent and picked up the envelope slowly.

Without realising it, he dropped onto Fred's bed and opened the unmarked, white envelope with shaking fingers.


	13. Responsibility

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Responsibility**

_And then I heard you say…  
I promise you, I'm always there,  
When your heart is filled with sorrow and despair,  
I'll carry you, when you need a friend,  
You'll find my footprints in the sand,  
__**Footprints in the Sand- Leona Lewis**_

xxxXxxx

George drew in a long, shaking breath and began to read:

_Georgie,_

_We always knew that we'd be separated one day…one of us had to go first and if you're reading this…it was obviously me. I wanted to write this in case I never get to say any of it before I go.  
If you are reading this and I am dead well…you're doing better than I would have done if our places had been reversed.  
You're probably thinking that I would be able to cope if you had died, I know I would be thinking the same thing if our places were reversed. I'll tell you right now that there's no way in any world I would be able to have last without my twin. You're far stronger than I am, George._

_How are you doing? Does it get any better with time like they say? Somehow I doubt it.  
But just so you know if you go and kill yourself just so we can be together again, I'll never, EVER forgive you._

_There's something I want you to do for me, alright? There are things I need to tell you in case…well, you know.  
We tell each other everything right? No matter how insignificant? There have never been any secrets between us, George. Right? _

Here the ink was smudged and the parchment wrinkled ever so faintly, as though Fred had been crying when he wrote it. George was crying too. Tears cascaded down his cheeks and his shoulders were shaking. He fought the urge to throw the letter away, to tear it up and never read a word further. But he knew he couldn't do that and he forced himself to read on.

_Oh, I wish that was true…I never told you everything George. I feel awful for that, you told me everything and I could never bring myself to do the same because I was ashamed. I have a secret…just the one that I've never told you about…  
I've been stupid, George. I've done stupid things and I never told you because I didn't want you to think less of me for it. That's always been my nightmare, that my twin will be ashamed of me, that I'll lose respect with him. I just want to be the big brother…it's selfish I know._

From there Fred's slanting handwriting became shaky and almost illegible…and reading it wasn't made any easier by the tears in George's eyes.

_Writing this isn't as easy as I thought it might be…blimey…I'll just say it. I don't wanna die without confessing…  
I've stolen something George…something I was never able to get over taking. I was so angry…it was so long ago and I never gathered the courage to give it back. I need you to return it for me. Because I obviously can never do it myself now.  
Don't read any further until you find it, alright? It's in a box, under the bed…look now._

George wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his coat and laid aside the letter. Not really wanting to, he slid off the bed onto his knees and peered under the bed. Withdrawing his wand from the nightstand he muttered "_Lumos_", the tip of his wand glowed brightly and he slipped it under the bed. There was something there, pushed up against the wall. His hands trembling he reached out an arm and grasped at the air for a moment before catching the corner and pulling it out.  
It was a box, no larger than a tinderbox made of simple wood. No intricate carvings, nothing but the not-so-smooth wood and hinges.  
George drew a shuddering breath, he was afraid to look inside, afraid to see what it was that his twin had stolen and kept from him for presumably years. They had done foolish things in their lifetime and yes, they had pinched things from people from time to time…particularly from Percy…but they had always given them back. That wasn't really stealing…he had never expected Fred to do something like that.  
Slowly he lifted the lid of the box and looked inside, his jaw still quivering a little.

It was a bottle, a small, crystal bottle about the size of his palm. George turned it over in his hand; there was faint writing embedded on one side of it but it wasn't in English, nor any other language he recognized.  
He carefully laid it aside and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before picking up Fred's letter again.

_Have you seen it before? Probably not…I took it from McGonagall's office in our second year. When I lost Gryffindor 100 points for whatever reason it was…I was so angry with her so when she went out of the room. Well…I took a fancy to that bottle and pocketed it; I thought it would serve her right.  
I didn't return it because she's so intimidating; besides Mum she's the only woman I was ever afraid of. But the weeks turned into years and I didn't want to see the disappointment on her face if I returned it five years later…I've seen that look on Mum's face so often... So I kept it.  
Not a day goes by that I don't regret doing that. It's only now, when the Death Eaters are after us and there's every chance that we could die anytime, that I know…I don't want this to remain unresolved if it all ends for me._

_It's silly isn't it? To think I was too ashamed to tell my brother that I stole a bottle from McGonagall when we were 12…I'm so sorry…_

_George…I'm dead now, most likely. Please…do this one thing for me. Return it to her. I don't know what's in it, I don't know if it's important but I feel awful…please._

_And I'm sorry for leaving you to do what I should have done myself so long ago…and for leaving you on your own like this. But rather I go than you. I couldn't live if you died, George._

_Please…I don't want anyone to know about this letter, alright? Just our secret…our last secret._

_I love you, little brother…_

_Fred._

The parchment slipped through George's trembling fingers as he read the last few words which were so smudged with the tears of both the twins that it was almost impossible to distinguish one word from the next.  
He didn't think he'd ever felt pain as strong as he did then, not even on the day Fred had died and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and let darkness take him to where he could be with his twin again.  
He couldn't believe he had thought he knew exactly what Fred had wanted. He hadn't known at all. Now that he did know he didn't want to know, didn't want to be handed a duty to carry out for his brother.  
He knew he had to do it of course but he didn't want to. There was no way he could face anything now.  
He was sobbing now, great heaving sobs that were not ceasing at all. He could barely breathe…he wasn't sure he wanted to breathe as he curled his knees into him and buried his face into them.

xxxXxxx

George stayed like that for longer than he cared to remember, Fred's letter resting beside him. Mercifully no one came to bother him.

He lifted his head some time later, puffy eyed and tear-stained. His throat too constricted to make any kind of humanlike sound whatsoever. He slowly picked up the letter and returned it to its envelope. He turned the crystal bottle over in his hands a few times and couldn't help wondering what the aquamarine liquid inside really was. Returning it to its box, George struggled to his feet, promptly toppling over sideways when he discovered his sleeping right foot.  
He glanced at his watch that by now was cutting into his wrist rather painfully. Four o'clock. Great…he still had daylight to struggle through somehow.  
He slipped the unmarked envelope into the box with the bottle of unknown liquid and hid it away under his own bed for the time. He would return it to McGonagall. It was just a matter of when he would do so.

George shuddered at the prospect of going back to the Hogwarts. Fred had died there…and that alone was enough to scare him off ever going to face McGonagall.

He didn't leave the flat for the rest of the day, emerging from the bedroom only long enough to use the bathroom and once to locate a bottle of Firewhisky. He really was turning into an alcoholic…but it helped. It dulled his pain and he needed it, needed it not to hurt so much.

The hours dragged on and George did absolutely nothing but stare at the ceiling and drink. He thought of nothing at all. Literally nothing. Was this death? Was this what it was like? Because if it was then he was very dead.  
Maybe he should leave the shop? Go somewhere where there were no memories of Fred, he thought that maybe he would be fine if he could just get his picture right out of his mind.  
No…if there was anything besides alcohol he needed to survive, it was the memory of his twin. It was the only way he had held on for seven long months.  
He couldn't run, George knew that, especially now that he had found the letter. There was something his brother had wanted completed. Something he had hidden from George for eight years.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking but George knew now that he couldn't live anymore. He had lost all will to keep trying, it just wasn't working. Being George. He couldn't do it he wasn't strong enough regardless of what Fred had thought. He had no purpose left, no reason.

He groaned, feeling increasingly more nauseous as the minutes dragged by. Why did he drink? Yeah it dulled the pain but really…was it worth waking up with a really bad hangover?  
He shrugged and took another depressing swig of the liquid. Yes, he decided. It was worth it.

_Will you do it?  
_George blinked, his eyes still puffy from crying and put the bottle down. "Fred?"  
_I'm back…will you?  
_He continued to speak aloud, moderately surprised that he could speak now "How do I know I'm not going crazy?"  
_George. I'm here! I am! Dead Fred in your Head.  
_"I'm drunk!" he cried to the room. Fred couldn't be there, there was no way Fred was coming back.  
_Damn straight you are I don't care! I'm here!  
_Fred was shouting at him now and it hurt. His head was throbbing and George couldn't stop the odd feeling that rose in him. 'Stop yelling….please, stop yelling at me! You can't be here because I'm drunk!'  
_George…this means a lot to me. Just do this please!  
_"Stop shouting…." He muttered, "You hate it when I drink. Why would you come?"  
_If you can't answer that yourself, George…  
_Even in his head, his twin's voice sounded horribly hurt and George regretted his words. He knew exactly why his twin had come. It was the same reason they had always been there for each other. He supposed he shouldn't have expected death to put an end to that.

Over half an hour past and George neither said nor thought anything more, he didn't touch the little Firewhisky that was left and stared at the floorboards. At last he spoke. Just two words.  
"I promise…"

He knew now, that he did have one reason left. He must live FOR his twin.

xxxXxxx

George didn't think he even managed to sleep an hour in total, in between staggering from bedroom to bathroom most of the night and tossing and turning with a tremendous headache. After one unfortunate incident involving making it only so far as the bathroom doorway, George kept a bucket beside the bed.

It was six in the morning before George finally collapsed back onto his pillow, completely and utterly exhausted and feeling as though he had no internal organs left in his body. He had changed his mind, no amount of alcohol was worth this much suffering

Slowly, but surely he slipped into unconsciousness, hoping never to wake up. It would be nice to sleep forever…as he fell into sleep, Fred's letter echoed in his mind

"_I'm sorry for leaving you to do what I should have done myself…."  
"I love you, little brother…"_

xxxXxxx

So that was why George was fastening a scarlet travelling cloak around his shoulders at this moment. He shuddered, he really didn't want to do it, didn't want to back to the place of his twin's death...he knew he wouldn't be able to face it.  
He slipped the letter from its envelope and read over the smudged, slanting, cursive handwriting for the fifth time that morning. He wondered how long it would be before he would be able to read it without shedding tears. He wiped his eyes, sniffing and trying not to do so.  
He returned the letter and envelope to the box and safely stowed it beneath his coat. He would do this. He would return the bottle…but only…only because it was what his brother wanted.

His big brother.

xxxXxxx

**That letter was really hard to write =( I couldn't stop sniffling... Enjoy!**


	14. Purpose

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Purpose**

_Stand in the rain, stand your ground,  
Stand up when it's all crashing down,  
If you stand through the pain, you won't drown,  
And one day what's lost can be found,  
If you stand in the rain  
__**Stand in the Rain- Superchick**_

xxxXxxx

It was freezing. The snow fell steadily and contributed to the shin-deep snow that covered the streets of Hogsmeade. George had Apparated just outside The Three Broomsticks, not surprised in the least by the lack of bustling students. He clutched the crimson cloak closer around him and swallowed, he'd best start walking before he came down with an acute case of frostbite.  
His jaw shook slightly, but not from the cold as he began the walk from the wizarding village up to Hogwarts castle.

So many thoughts flew through his head as he stood before the great gates which had opened to admit him. He shouldn't be here, it wasn't right. He didn't have any desire to step through those gates and through the large doors. He wondered vaguely whether anyone would recognize him, classes would have just resumed.  
He had to do it. He had to honour his brother's last request…and so, George stepped through the iron gates and slowly, very slowly, walked toward the caste doors.  
"George!" A great bellow made him leap out of his skin and before he could stop it, the Weasley found himself in a bone crushing hug.  
Hagrid was sniffing tearfully as George tried to squirm free, to no avail. "Yeh alright!"  
"Yeah….great…" George wheezed and repeatedly began to beat the arm that crushed him with his fists "Can't…breathe, Hagrid…"  
The gamekeeper dropped him and withdrew a table-cloth of a handkerchief from his pocket. He blew his nose with a noise not unlike that of an elephant and clapped George on the back, almost sending him face first into the door.  
"Are yeh alright? Why're yeh here?"  
He grunted "M' fine…I've…there's something I gotta do, Hagrid."  
"Come and 'ave a cup of tea first!" Hagrid insisted "Blimey…its good ter see yeh…"  
George shook his head furiously "It's good to see you too, Hagrid…but I have to go." With that he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and muttered "Fred…give me strength…"' before pushing the doors open and stepping inside the halls. Leaving a bewildered gamekeeper behind him.

The Entrance Hall was empty like he would have expected and he groaned. She would be teaching…McGonagall would be teaching…George almost turned straight around and left but he knew it was too late for that now.  
He sighed and began his ascent toward the usual Transfiguration classroom on the third floor.

He didn't pay any notice to the students he hurried past, hoping they didn't recognize him and try to talk to him. Mercifully the third floor corridor was deserted and he leant against the wood of the door to take several steadying breaths. Fred had died in this castle…he had died here. This wasn't ok, he couldn't do this. He just couldn't. And yet…he found himself beginning to pull the door open. There was no turning back.

xxxXxxx

He peered into the room, making sure McGonagall was there. She was, it appeared to be a class of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. He made a peculiar sound in his throat the he didn't think was even human and stepped into the doorway.  
Total silence fell as McGonagall stopped whatever lecture she was giving and stared slightly open-mouthed at the twin. The class looked around and George could spot Luna Lovegood and Ginny sitting near the front and looking at him curiously.  
There was nothing for it, he took a few steps forward into the classroom and, looking straight and McGonagall, said "There's something I need to tell you…"  
She gasped and held a hand on her chest for a moment before composing herself and taking a few calming breaths. "Of course…"  
At that the whole class erupted into whispered conversation, Ginny flew from her seat and threw her arms around her brother. "George! What are you doing here? Are you alright? Are you any better? Have you spoken to Mum yet? Or Bill?"  
George pried his sister off and blinked at her "I can't tell you. I'm fine. Yeah, whatever you call better. No. Yes." He replied quickly and in order before pushing her gently aside as the Professor opened the door to her office.  
"Right!" She instructed "Continue your revision QUIETLY until I return. Leave the man alone!" She snapped at several boys who looked on the verge of asking George some questions.  
Ginny grabbed George's arm as he made toward Minerva McGonagall's office. "George…your eyes are really red…"  
He grunted, possibly not the wisest thing to have done because the next words out of her mouth were:  
"You're breath smells like….George…you've been drinking again haven't you?"  
The problem was that she hadn't added the last part in in undertone, the entire class heard it quite plainly and George suddenly felt twenty pairs of eyes on him and complete silence fell again.  
"Leave off…" he muttered, flushing a little. With that, he disappeared into the office.

xxxXxxx

"What is so important, Mr Weasley, that you felt it necessary to come back to school and disturb my class?" the Professor peered over her glasses at the Weasley standing across from her. He looked extremely awkward there.  
"I don't want to…to be here." He muttered but breathed slowly and managed to form a coherent sentence. "It's…about my brother…Fred I mean…"  
She sniffed slightly and held a hand to her heart for several moments, why would George have come to speak to her about his dead twin. It was a dreadful loss and one that she was sure would be the very last thing George would willingly speak about.  
"Mr Weasley…what is this about?"  
George, trying to keep his hands from shaking, withdrew the small box from his coat. He slipped the letter back near his chest and looked down at the box in his hands.  
"F-Fred…wanted-he took…" He clenched his eyes closed. He couldn't do it. He shouldn't have come, he knew he couldn't do this.  
No. He had to, he promised Fred and he kept his promises.  
It was the best he could to hand her the box and, without meeting her eyes, say "He took this…in our second year…F-Fred."  
She gave him a sympathetic look and took the box. She lifted the lid and, finding the bottle inside, let out an audible gasp and dropped onto a chair. "My-My goodness…you say Fred took this?"  
"Eight years ago…" He still couldn't believe that his twin hadn't told him. George wouldn't have been ashamed of him, he would have told him to go give it back but he wouldn't be ashamed of him.  
"Mr Weasley…do-do you know what this is?"  
George shook his head, curiosity beginning to open its eyes.  
She held up the bottle, indicating the engraved writing "This is Parseltongue…"  
George blinked "Parseltongue? I didn't even know it was a written language, I thought it was just spoken…"  
"All these years…your brother had this…oh my…" Professor McGonagall composed herself and stood looking George firmly in the eyes "You do not know what you have started by returning this…only you can finish this now."  
He was staring at her as though she had just sprouted a third arm "I'm sorry…what?"  
She walked around the finely carved oak desk and pulled a roll of parchment from a drawer. "What this bottle contains I cannot tell you. Only that it must be destroyed and that there is only one man who knows how to do so...unfortunately…he is in hiding, I know only that he is abroad." She crossed the room and returned the bottle to the box. "You, George Weasley are the only one now who can take it to this man. Had your brother returned it to me I would have told him the same thing, though I do not doubt that you would have joined him." She held out the box and parchment for him to take.  
George took several steps back, not touching the box. "What in hell makes you think I'll go waltzing off to who-knows-where?"  
She pursed her lips "This bottle contains something essential to the destruction of evil…" She sighed at the expression on George's face "Well…you didn't think that everything would be sunshine, daisies and buttercups because You-Know-Who is gone?" She shook her head "No. There were dark wizards before him and there will be dark wizards after."  
George had heard enough, there was no way he was doing it. No way in hell. Why did she expect him to anyway? He scoffed and turned to leave.  
"I'm not doing it. I have absolutely no desire to. Look…" He took his hand from the doorhandle and turned back to McGonagall "Look! I promised my twin I'd return that to you. I've done it and I'm done!" His voice was beginning to rise and he didn't care "I have no more reason to live! I've done what he asked me to, that was the only reason I had left so if you don't mind, I'm going home!"  
The Professor's hard eyes gleamed and she flicked her wand at the door, locking it.  
"Mr Weasley, you have no choice! If it were up to me, I would not pin this burden onto you, especially not in your current state. I will be blunt, you are pathetic at the moment!" She sighed "You are a very skilled wizard and I really think that if you snap out of your selfish stupor you can succeed in this quest. It is far bigger than you, and it is far bigger than Fred!"  
He blinked, completely taken aback by the Professor's words. It was true…he had been selfish but still…how could she expect him to just get over the loss of his twin and go skipping off halfway across the world to find a man who he had no idea where to find?  
Furious with himself, George snatched up the box and parchment, tucking them both under his coat again. He turned and glared at the door, and without the use of a wand it swung open for him.  
"George?"  
He gritted his teeth and grunted in acknowledgement without turning back to look at her.  
"You may wish to speak with Hagrid…unlikely as it may seem I believe he might be able to tell you where to begin…oh…" she paused "It might be wise to take along a companion. It promises to be a dangerous quest…perhaps Mr Potter."  
George spun around "I'm not asking for HIS help! I'm sick of Harry! Harry, Harry, Harry, it's always Harry!" He didn't quite know what possessed him at the moment but he couldn't stop his rant. The entire class was staring at the open door of McGonagall's office, some seemed rather afraid, others intrigued.  
"So many people died for HIM! Mad-Eye, Remus and Tonks all died for HIM. I lost my ear for HIM….and it's HIS FAULT THAT FRED'S DEAD!" The tears stung his eyes but there was no way he would left himself cry now. It wasn't that he hated Harry, not really, but he did resent him. After all he was right; Fred had lost his life in trying to give HARRY the opportunity to get to Voldemort.  
With that George turned and stalked out of the office and through the desks in the Transfiguration classroom. He felt the stunned eyes of the class on him and those of his sister seemed to scorch painfully into his back.

Professor McGonagall shook her head and sighed. She really wished that she didn't have to send George on such a quest, but it was true. Fred would have had to do it had he still been alive. George had admitted it himself, he had no reason left to live and he needed one. For the sake of everyone who knew him, he needed a reason.

xxxXxxx

George didn't go back right away, he ignored all the wide variety of stares he received from students as he passed and stormed from the castle with so many thoughts rushing through his head.  
He was freezing and shivering by the time he stumbled into the Three Broomsticks. It was divinely warm he registered gratefully and sank onto a stool.  
"What can I getcha, hon?" Madam Rosmerta, the bartender asked without looking up at him, placing aside the glass she'd been wiping.  
"Mead…" He replied, unfastening his cloak and throwing it over the stool beside him, the Three Broomsticks was more or less deserted.  
"Here." She placed the beverage before him and did a double take "Hey…I know you...you're a…a-umm. Weasley! That's it."  
"I'd be surprised if you didn't know me…" He sighed and took a drink.  
She chuckled and resumed wiping glasses. "What's wrong with you, sweetie?"  
George shook his head and took another drink. He wished she wouldn't call him 'sweetie' it was really weird…  
"You must get all types in here…" he mused, watching the only other customer, a particularly hairy man of about forty order another strange, lime green drink.  
"Think that's strange, you oughta see the Hog's Head." Rosmerta snorted and tossed down the cloth. "Listen, I read the 'Prophet' as regularly as the next witch but for the record, you come from a good family…I don't think you're nuts." She winked at him.  
He didn't know whether to be reassured, grateful or slightly freaked out. It wasn't uncommon for Rosmerta to hit on customers, and, he reasoned, he was almost four years older than when she had last seen him and probably looked it.  
He settled for nodding and draining his glass, he nodded again when she asked if he wanted another.

George absentmindedly swilled the amber liquid around in his glass, resting his chin in his palm. He had calmed down now and was actually feeling the best he had in days, there was no one here to pester him. No one to try and make him spend time with his family and wrongly accuse him of attempting suicide. Too bad it wouldn't last.  
His better mood was spoiled as soon as he thought on the 'quest' that lay before him. Was he really going to do it? Would he really be stupid and insane enough to do it? No…of course not.  
He blinked and realised, he hadn't any idea what was on that parchment McGonagall had given him. He withdrew it from its hiding place and unrolled it. It was mercifully short, there were only a few words written there.

_Demetrius Dominió_

"Well, he ain't British…" George muttered to himself.  
Rosmerta, having sent off dusters and cloths to wipe down the tables, raised an eyebrow "Who isn't?"  
"Never mind." He rolled up the parchment and slipped it away safely before she could look at it.  
She shrugged and stared sideways at him sideways for a moment before shaking her head, a smirk on her lips.  
George returned to his own thoughts… he was really starting to consider actually being stupid enough to undertake this quest. But really, he did NOT want Harry's help. He would never be able to truly forgive Harry for his twin's death. Even though he knew that it wasn't his fault at all and therefore it was a stupid, pitiful resentment. But nevertheless, it was still there…  
He groaned aloud when the bartender began to speak to him again.  
"Oi, how old are you anyways?"  
George winced and replied cautiously "Twenty…"  
She flicked her long hair out of her eyes and shrugged "Yeah, you look it, you're not that young."  
"Hey!" He wasn't getting old just yet!  
Rosmerta sighed and rolled her eyes. The other patron had passed out on his table and was snoring slightly. She raised an eyebrow at him and brushed it off before turning back to the twin.  
"Gets boring around here, you're about the only good looking guy I've seen in a couple of weeks. Free later?"  
George drained the remnants of his mead and stood. That was enough. She may not look her age but she was far too old for him. He shook his head "Nope." He lied and hurriedly left the building.  
The effect was spoiled five seconds later when he returned to retrieve his forgotten cloak…he had paid good money for that.

xxxXxxx

He lay on his bed, holding the crystal bottle above him and turning it over in fingers. Parseltongue? Seriously? What on earth could this liquid have to do with the 'destruction of evil'?  
Damn it…he was curious now…he really wanted to know. A part of his old life had returned, but only his curiosity. Nothing else.


	15. Decisions

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Decisions**

_Everybody wants to be understood,  
Well I can hear you,  
Everybody wants to be loved,  
Don't Give Up,  
Because you are loved…_

_Don't give up,  
It's just the hurt that you hide,  
When you're lost inside,  
I….I'll be there to find you,_

_**You Are Loved (Don't Give Up)- Josh Groban**_

xxxXxxx

"Yeh wanna find who?" Hagrid blinked his mouth slightly agape behind the beard.  
George didn't make eye contact with the giant of a man and placed the cup of untouched tea back onto the table. "Demetrius Dominió….McGonagall said that you may be able to help."  
"Oh I could 'elp alright, don't yeh be worrying 'bout that." Hagrid nodded his dark eyes wide. "Why on earth yeh would want ta…." He sighed "Gracious me…"  
George rolled his eyes impatiently "So? Who is he? How do I find him?" He couldn't believe it…he couldn't believe he was actually going to do it.  
Hagrid took a deep breath and drained his tea. "I can't tell yeh, George…not unless I know what it is yer up to. Sorry."  
"Hagrid…I can't tell you." The twin sighed exasperated.  
"Look…" he leaned forward, earning a creak of protest from the table "I know it's got some 'at to do with that bottle…McGonagall said yeh might come."  
George just blinked at him "Who is Dominió, Hagrid?"  
The gamekeeper glanced at the table for several seconds and sighed. He knew when he was beaten.  
"Alright…I'll tell yeh…firs' thing yeh gotta know is he was last seen in Moscow in Russia…"  
"Sounds Russian, with a name like that…"  
"Oi! Yeh want me ter tell yeh or not?" Hagrid glared at him before continuing "Demetrius Dominió…he was a strange one…been in hidin' ever since the days of Grindelwald or perhaps before…a genius if ever there was one though. He was a Parselmouth too..."  
"But why was he hiding?" George frowned, taking an absentminded sip of the cold tea and putting it down in disgust. Cold tea was not in his fancy.  
"Ah. Because of that…that bottle you got. Or rather what's in it…an' that I can't answer. I dunno…" Hagrid paused and poured George a fresh cup from the teapot. "I can say this though…Dominió…if 'e's still alive. He'll go ter any means not ter be found and I do mean any means."  
Great…that was just great. The Weasley thought. Not only was he gonna go skipping off halfway across the world to Russia, where Dominió probably hadn't been for a long while, but he was gonna put himself KNOWINGLY through dangers and mortal peril in doing so.  
Hagrid sighed "Look, George. Yeh can't do this…it's downright stupid and foolish!"  
He snorted into his tea "Damn right it is. But I kind of have to don't I?"  
The half-giant's kind eyes were full of concern as he looked down at the already unstable wizard. As if George needed anything more on his plate. He sighed "At least take 'Arry with yeh…don't do it alone…"  
The twin glared accusingly at a smouldering log in the fireplace "Hagrid…"  
"George! No one would ever forgive me if they knew I'd let yeh go off alone!"  
"No one's gonna know you helped me, Hagrid."  
The expression in the great man's face was heartbreaking. He was like a violently oversized, hairy puppy. "Yeh got no idea how dangerous this quest is, George and it ain't 'Arry's fault that Fred…yeh know…"  
George rose from his seat "Thanks, Hagrid." He said curtly and turned on his heel, marching straight out of the gamekeeper's hut.

xxxXxxx

George liked the crunching of the snow under his feet at he strode back toward the gates of Hogwarts. He narrowly ducked a snowball that had been aimed for his head but ignored it and kept going on his way.  
_You're actually going to do this?  
_He sighed to himself and kept going. 'Apparently I am crazy enough to do so.'  
_You're really actually going to do this?  
_'Are you deaf?'_  
No…George. I don't think you should do this…  
_'McGonagall said I have no choice. She would have told you to do it had you had the guts to take it back yourself!'  
_It wasn't a cop out, George!  
_George sighed, his breath steaming out in little puffs in the winter air. 'I know. Sorry…'  
Fred in His Head seemed to sigh too. _Hagrid's right. At least take someone with you…and frankly there's no one better than Harry…I mean besides me but that's out of the question isn't it?  
_George stopped short a few feet from the gates. 'Fred…it's 'Dear Harry's' fault that you're dead!' He thought angrily. How could Fred forget that?  
_Codswallop! That's complete bull! Harry didn't cause that explosion did he? It was bloody Rookwood, not Harry that killed me!_  
'You died for HIM, Fred!'  
_And I'd do it again gladly! By the way, I didn't die just for Harry; I died for you, for Mum, for our family and for the rest of the side of good! Pretty good way to go I think. Besides…you can't tell you me you wouldn't have done the same…  
_The living twin stared at the ice encrusted iron, thinking on his brother's words. He was right. There was no way George would have hesitated in doing the same thing. He grunted and kept walking.  
The pair kept on in silence for several minutes, George only half aware that he could simply Apparate now he was out of the grounds.  
Finally, the voice of Fred echoed again in his head.  
_It's alright. I'd be blaming Harry too…but it's not his fault.  
_'I know…'  
_Sooooo….Rosmerta fancies you!  
_ There was no mistaking the evil, gleeful tone in Fred's voice and George scowled, not saying anything.  
_She's twice our age! Goodness, she does get lonely if she calls you a good looking guy…  
_'You're as good as insulting yourself, Fred…and that was an awful, creepy experience…' George shuddered a little. It really had been.  
_What? Having a woman hit on you? Come now, George…it's really not that bad! I should know!_

xxxXxxx

George appeared with a pop into Wheezes, he really should reopen the shop he pondered. But how could he if he may not even be around to run it for who knows how long? But there was no way he could lose that much money. If he DID go, he would leave Verity in charge, he was sure that she would find willing help. Not that he was absolutely, definitely, positively going.  
He had finally removed the humiliating, yellowing headline from the window but was not surprised in the least to find that the public's attitude toward him had hardly changed. People still avoided him, whispered and gossiped about him and hurried their little children away from him in the street. That was probably what hurt the most, that parents did not want their children to even look at him, he'd always liked little kids, most of the time they were adorable.  
Slowly, almost absentmindedly, he wandered down the staircase into the basement. He would never be short of a way to kill himself if he ever really did intentionally attempt suicide, he though vaguely as he examined the many bottles of test potions and brews, the vast array of half-finished inventions and faulty products.  
Not for the first time he wondered what it would be to be dead. He wouldn't have to worry about this business with the bottle, wouldn't have to have it nagging at the back of his mind for his whole life. The whole thing was ridiculously cliché….the destruction of evil? Honestly? That was the kind of thing one heard in children's stories. Yes…maybe he would end it. The more he thought about it, the more he was tempted. He had his wand in his hand and twirled it over in his long fingers. It would be so easy, just two words…and he would definitely mean it.  
With a jolt George leapt out of his suicidal stupor. What was he thinking? Hadn't he just figured out that he needed to live FOR FRED? He hurriedly put his wand away; much as he wanted to die sometimes…the thought scared him.  
He fled the basement quickly and lingered awhile amongst the shelves of products that seemed very bored.

xxxXxxx

"_I tell you, Fred. I've got a good feeling about this…" George grinned as the twins hurried up the staircase toward the portrait of the Fat Lady that hid the entrance to the Gryffindor Common Room. They had just been told the Quidditch team list had been posted.  
Fred reached the portrait first, hastily mumbled the password and scrambled through before his twin into the scarlet common room. There was quite a crowd surrounding the notice board, no doubt all hoping that they had a place on the team. George grinned at Fred and elbowed him aside to scramble and squirm his way to the front.  
"Oi! Move it you lot!" He grunted.  
Fred hung back, waiting for the verdict from his brother which came in the form of an excited whoop, a moment later George was reappearing under the arm of a fifth year student.  
"We got it! We're in, Fred! Beaters!"  
Fred laughed loudly and slung his arm around George's shoulders "I knew it! I knew it! What did I tell you?"  
"I told you, you git!" George grinned and playfully shoved his twin, Fred narrowed his eyes and promptly tackled his brother.  
"Good on you two!" Charlie cried, emerging from the mass of Gryffindors to congratulate his brothers. "That's three Weasleys on the team!"  
The twelve-year olds ceased their mock wrestling and grinned identically.  
"Slytherin doesn't stand a chance now!" Fred whooped.  
"We'll fly circles around 'em…" George grinned.  
"Not that Gryffindor didn't before." They said in unison.  
Their elder brother smirked and lowered himself onto the arm of an overstuffed armchair, his Captain badge glittering on his chest. "I warn you in advance, you're in for many pep talks from me."  
Fred and George exchanged a glanced and groaned before saying in unison "Rather you than Percy."  
"I heard that!" Said Weasley scowled, peering over the book he had been reading across from his three brothers.  
"Lighten up, Perce." Charlie smirked "They're only telling the truth."  
_

xxxXxxx

George sighed; he couldn't bear to face his mother. But the Burrow was where Harry was most likely to be. He leaned against the wood of the door so that he couldn't be seen from any windows and wondered for the tenth time that morning if he really was going to go through with this.  
He took a breath as though it would be his last and stepped over the threshold.  
He clenched his eyes shut in anticipation of the crushing hug he knew was coming…he thought he knew was coming. He opened his eyes and sighed. That was rather anticlimactic.  
He peered into the living room, the first thing he noticed was his hand on the clock had left 'Mortal Peril' and seemed to be in the process of moving from 'Home' to 'Lost'. He sighed and remembered that both Harry and Ron would be at the Ministry in training to become Aurors and they probably wouldn't be back until quite late.  
Maybe he'd just go alone. It seemed easier, and he wouldn't have to face Harry. It was extremely tempting, despite both Hagrid and McGonagall's warnings. So he'd face peril himself? It wouldn't be the first time.  
George turned and left the house before his mother could reveal herself. He lingered a while in the garden, watching the chickens bustle about clucking hungrily.  
He wanted solitude didn't he? It was the perfect time to get it, who knew how long he'd be away. That is if he DID decide to go through with it.  
That was another matter. Should he go at all? He felt, at least a little, that he could begin to mend his life…well, at least struggle on. It was true that in George's mind he still had no reason to live but he would miss a lot. His godchild would be born in a few months. Heh…he smirked, it sounded peculiar to think of Bill and Fleur's baby as HIS godchild.  
He kicked out viciously as a gnome stuck its potato shaped head out from a bush, sending it muttering and grumbling vulgarly away. He hated this. Why did HE have to do it? Why did FRED have to take the bottle in the first place? Of all the things he could have stolen it would be that…  
It just wasn't fair.

But still, George felt a nagging curiosity that would probably take him to the ends of the world if he followed it.

_George…I really don't think you should do this. It's ridiculously dangerous.  
_'Are you still on about that? And since when did we care about 'ridiculously dangerous' may I ask?'  
_Yes I am and since I died, since I left you without a twin. I'm not letting you die too._  
'I'm not a baby! I'm a big boy, Fred, and I can take care of myself.'  
_Oh yeah, I can see that. How could I POSSIBLY have thought otherwise?_ Fred's voice was thick with sarcasm. _I mean, you're only an alcoholic and suicidal and ACTUALLY tried to off yourself but other than that, yeah you're doing just peachy.  
_'I did not try to off myself, Fred! That's it…I'm going.'  
_George, please…._

George didn't reply. He didn't know what had happened to his common sense…if he had ever had any at any point in his life at all…either way it wasn't present now.  
Meh…what did he care? He had nothing to lose anyway.

He had made up his mind. He would go and he would go alone.


	16. Leaving

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Leaving**

_Would you know my name?  
If I saw you in heaven,  
Would it be the same?  
If I saw you in heaven,  
I must be strong…and carry on,  
Cause I know,  
I don't belong….here in heaven….  
__**Tears in Heaven- Eric Clapton**_

**Dedication- This chapter is also dedicated to my wonderful, awesome, brilliantly fantastic minions…I mean readers! I love you all! ^_^  
Special shout outs to—sxcsami, Lilac Rose6, Ellivia22 and rozepoze2000!**

xxxXxxx

A few days had passed since George had made his decision and he had changed it about five times a day since then. He had even taken to packing, unpacking, repacking and re-unpacking whenever he felt restless…which was often.  
Fred hadn't spoken to him again yet, and perhaps that was one reason George was so restless...he had just begun to feel as though his twin was alive again. They bantered and argued even now…though it was only in his head which he was sure was not healthy. He spoke to himself sometimes, hoping Fred would answer him and support his decision to venture out of London. Now he knew he was going loopy…all the more reason to leave.  
He wouldn't have people hawking over him, wouldn't have to overhear whispered conversations that took place between his own siblings and parents about admitting him to St Mungos. It had been Percy, Bill and his father discussing this rather confronting prospect. Bill had been adamantly against it, insisting that George would likely completely break down mentally if confined to a hospital. Percy seemed set on the theory that it was the only thing that could help their brother in his state. Dad had initially been on Bill's side but George did not need to have heard much to know he was considering Percy's argument.  
No…he would have to leave. He did not think he could stand to be around them anymore, however little he was around them now.  
For at least the tenth time he pulled the small satchel from the closet, it had already been charmed with an Undetectable Extension Charm, and reached inside, his fingers found the corner of the wooden box he kept the bottle in and he drew it out.  
He didn't open it though, only set it to the side on his bedside table and reached back into the satchel. There was little in there aside from clothing and a tent for the moment. He sighed and added parchment, quills and bottles of ink to the bag. With a glance around the room he bit his lip…should he? After all, he had already dispatched an owl to Verity telling her that within the week he would be going abroad for personal reasons and requesting that she keep the store operating.  
Should he just leave now? George had already decided that he would not tell anyone when or where he was going. Let them realise in their own time.  
It was a tempting thought and he was basically packed. Mind you, he had no idea how long he would be 'away' though the longer the better in his opinion.  
Why not? Yeah, he would leave today. He shrugged, glad that the tent came fully stocked with bedding.  
He returned the box to the satchel and as an afterthought added a razor. Well, just because he would be away from house and home didn't mean he was going to grow a beard…he and Fred had tried it once. Just the ONCE…it did not suit them in any universe…  
He had already thought to pack a large box of various Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes products. One never knew when a Fainting Fancy might come in handy.

George wouldn't lie; the apartment was feeling more and emptier now even than it had been when he had first moved back. It had thought it would be the opposite because that was what was logical right?  
Ha! Logical? Nothing had been logical for months and months now. It had all been the reverse. Except for Fred's death…that had been painfully logical. After all, Fred had come into the world before George and it was only LOGICAL that he should leave the world first. Oh, how George wished it had been him. He knew he should have stayed with his brother.  
_What could you have done? Held the wall together? If it wasn't me it would have been someone else.  
_'I'd rather it be someone else…I don't care how awful that sounds.'  
_George…what if the 'someone else' was Percy instead of me?  
_George didn't reply. How dare his brother ask him that! The most awful part was that he knew what his answer was…

xxxXxxx

"_Fred? Fred!" George cried, hitting the sopping grass at a run, sending mud flying everywhere and not bothering to dismount his broom.  
The older twin lay spread-eagled on the Quidditch pitch, face tilted to the side with his right cheek pressed into the mud, his Cleansweep Five lay several feet away and he wasn't moving.  
George skidded over to his brother as the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team landed around him, their training forgotten. He dropped to his knees in the muck and rolled Fred onto his back, it couldn't be plainer that he'd broken his collarbone which was sticking out at an odd angle and purple bruises were beginning to swell up over his skin.  
"Fred! Blimey, wake up!" George cried, attempting to wipe the mud off Fred's face but only succeeding in thickening the layer due to the mud covering his own hands.  
Oliver was beside him now, his eyes wide with shock. "We've got to get him to the Hospital Wing…Fred?" He snapped his eyes back to the Weasley on the ground.  
A low groan sounded from the injured twin as he began to slip into consciousness. "George…."  
George ran a hand through his twin's identical hair; much like their mother did when any of her children were ill. "Are you alright, mate?"  
"George…" He muttered, his flaming hair rapidly turning brown from the mud.  
"Yeah?"  
"You're kneeling on my ribs…and it bloody hurts like hell…" Fred groaned, crying out in pain as he tried to lift his head.  
George looked down, sure enough his knee was firmly planted on his twins chest. He moved it at once.  
"What's everyone looking at?" Fred muttered, looking up at the panicked faces of his team. "Haven't you ever seen a man in pain before?" It was only then he registered the warm trickle of blood coming from a gash across his forehead.  
George bit his lip "Help me would you?" He grunted to the team as he gently pulled Fred to lean against him, wrapping his arm around Fred's waist.  
"Ouch! Ribs, ribs!" he yelped, coughing blood over his chin. He supposed he should just count himself lucky he hadn't lost all his teeth.  
Katie Bell squeaked behind the twins, her face almost as white as Fred's. Harry hurried to help George support Fred and together they slowly made their way toward the castle. Oliver hurrying behind them, also pale, but more so at the concept that one of the two best Beaters Gryffindor had ever had was temporarily out of action. Angelina and Katie followed a little distance behind leaving Alicia Spinnet to collect the discarded brooms._

_The sight that greeted them in the Entrance Hall did nothing to raise spirits. It seemed the Slytherin team had seen their rivals marching back up to the castle, drenched and bloody and obviously didn't want to miss an opportunity.  
"What's the matter, Weasley? Fall off your broom?" Pucey sneered as his team snickered behind him before continuing "And what happened to the injured one?"  
George fought the urge to retaliate and he and Harry began to help Fred up the staircase.  
Malfoy snickered "Not that surprising really with those old Cleansweeps…" he spat out the broom model like it was filth "They're not reliable at all, it probably couldn't keep up with him."  
The younger twin snarled and barely restrained himself from lunging at Malfoy which he would have done had it not meant dropping Fred of the floor.  
Fred yelped loudly and stumbled over the one foot that could support any weight as his twin's supporting hand clenched tightly in anger "Bloody hell, ribs!"  
The Slytherins howled with laughter, Malfoy's voice the loudest among them.  
Below him George heard Wood's hand slam hard on the wall and could swear he even heard his teeth grinding together. "Flint. I would control that obnoxious little git if I were you…"  
The captain laughed loudly along with his team but sobered quickly and sneered. "You threatening my Seeker?"  
Oliver grunted and stormed up the after the twins and Harry, the three Chasers followed, throwing scathing looks over their shoulders._

_Madam Pomfrey bustled over to the team immediately, a disapproving glare on her face at the amount of mud and water they were dripping on the clean floor. "Goodness…that game will be the death of all of you…" she muttered "What happened?"  
George opened his mouth to answer but his throat had constricted too much to speak, his twin was hurt. Badly.  
"He fell…" Wood explained "At least fifty feet…and it's not a game…it's a __**sport**__." He frowned earning himself a shove from Angelina.  
"Not the time, Oliver."  
"Well that's obvious. Out of the way you lot! Bring him here…"  
Fred let out a loud groan as his human crutches dragged him forward toward a bed. He didn't like to think of the amount of injuries he had sustained. Nor all the places in which he sustained them.  
"Broken collarbone, tsk, goodness me…when will you boys ever learn?" The nurse shook her head firmly and clucked her tongue.  
"You think I fell on purpose?" He cried dropping onto the bed, tasting blood.  
She grunted and waited for George to heave his twin's likely broken leg onto the bed before violently shoving him aside and beginning to prod Fred's ribs earning loud yelps.  
"At least four broken ribs, goodness me, you have been in the wars…"  
Fred was beginning to feel light headed now, the blood was still running steadily from his head and the blood that had trickled over his eyelid was drying, effectively gluing his eye closed.  
The last thing he remembered before drifting into unconsciousness again was a warm liquid being poured down his throat and the blurry face of his twin watching worriedly._

xxxXxxx

There was no time like the present. George sighed, an inkling of guilt being to nag at his mind. But he would stick to his decision not to tell anyone anything.  
He slung the satchel over his shoulder and sighed, taking a final look around the bedroom. It didn't seem so long ago that he had done this very same thing with his twin before they fled to Auntie Muriel's. Only Fred would most definitely never return to this room…and maybe he never would either. Not that that would be such a terribly bad thing.  
George took one last, longing look around the room and closed the door on it. He didn't stop again as he left the apartment and made his way through the shop.  
It was easier than he had expected…leaving the shop and his memories behind, he thought as he locked the shop with a flick of his wand, leaving what the twins had thought was their dreams behind.

He looked up and down Diagon Alley, the most popular wizarding street in Britain. Would he ever see it again? Much as he found himself incapable of feeling much, there was no way he could leave without a final look at the places he had once called home.  
He wandered slowly down the street, completely oblivious to the stares he received…he froze. Steadily, as if in a trance he rotated on the spot to look directly into blonde curls.  
"You have exactly three seconds from the time I finish speaking to get out of my sight…" he said steely.  
The woman giggled "Why, dear…long time no see."  
"Times up."  
George had had it, within a second his wand was aimed directly at Skeeter's throat. Her eyes wide with shock.  
"Give. It. Back." His voice was dangerously quiet and his eyes were nothing but cold and determined.  
Skeeter giggled nervously, her glasses slightly askew "I-I don't know what-"  
"Give. It. Back." His wand was but half an inch from her throat now. "Don't make me do something I won't regret."  
The street was totally silent now, but George was barely aware of all the attention the scene was causing.  
Rita whimpered slightly, but a smirk began to spread slowly across her features as she slowly drew her own wand.  
George was faster with a simple "Expelliarmus!" her wand flew from her long fingernails and landed several feet away.  
"Give it back!" George shouted a wild blaze in his blue eyes.  
"Georgie, Georgie, Georgie…."  
"Don't you dare call me Georgie!"  
Rita Skeeter shook her head and laughed with glee. What a story this would make! With that, she smirked and began to shrink. Within a moment, where the reporter had once stood, a beetle was scuttling from.  
George shot a curse at the insect with a frustrated cry before spinning around to face the stunned crowd. "What the hell are you staring at?" He cried, completely overcome with anger to do anything but shout.  
With that, George turned on his heel and disappeared with a _pop._

xxxXxxx

He stood on the hill overlooking the town of Ottery St Catchpole on one side, and the Burrow on the other. George was facing the latter. Not for the first time that day he wondered if he would ever see it again. If he would ever see his family again…it was better this way, to disappear without saying goodbye. He wouldn't have to see the look on his mother's face if she knew that her son was running off to Russia, alone.

The twin shifted his eyes from the unique house he had called home for twenty years despite moving out when he and Fred were eighteen, and focused instead on the sun that was now high in the sky.  
He scoffed, bundled his cloak closer around him clutching the satchel to him, spun on his left heel and Disapparated…


	17. Ghosts

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Ghosts**

_Who can say for certain?  
Maybe you're still here,  
I feel you all around me,  
Your memory so clear,_

_Deep in the stillness,  
I can hear you speak,  
You're still an inspiration,  
Can it be?  
__**A Breath Away- Josh Groban**_

xxxXxxx

It was freezing, as George had expected. He had no idea where he would end up but didn't really expect it to be in the middle of a forest.  
"Great…" he muttered, pulling gloves from his pocket and burying his face into the collar of his jacket. It was snowing and heavily. He really should have put more thought into this…he had no idea where he was or how to get to anywhere else. Hagrid's information may have seemed helpful at the time but really, it narrowed it down to Moscow which George had no idea if he was anywhere near so it wasn't really all that helpful.  
Vaguely becoming aware that he was starting to resemble a snowman, George began walking straight ahead, already thinking that had been a bad idea to come.  
The snow did not let up as he walked and, though it was early, even with the three hours of time difference added on, it was already nearly dark. He swore under his breath and burrowed further into his jacket to absorb all the warmth he could.  
_George, stop walking now. You're gonna get frostbite before you even start anything!  
_George stopped, it was obvious now that a storm was brewing. The wind had picked up and was howling past his ears. It would be foolish to continue, not that he had gone very far. This was ridiculous.  
He sighed as best he could and pointed his wand into the satchel, his hand shivering. "_Accio tent!"_  
Immediately the bundle flew from the bag and into George's arms where it remained for only a moment before being sent to set itself up.  
This only a took a moment, which George was thoroughly grateful for, feeling as though he had already developed frostbite on his fingers as he slipped through the tent flap. He didn't bother with protective enchantments, who would find him here? He didn't really care if they did anyway.  
He lit the furnace in the centre of the tent with still shaking fingers and dropped onto the bunk closest to it.

At that moment it occurred to him. He had never, ever in his life felt more alone than he did then. It was true that he didn't want his family around him. He wanted solitude. But to be completely alone in a foreign country in a blizzard…it was very confronting.  
Without realising it he slipped off the bunk onto the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and leaning his head back onto the mattress.  
'Fred? You're not going to leave me are you?' he asked, feeling like a four year old and praying for his twin to be there.  
_I'm not going anywhere, George. I never have._  
And George knew, as his twin replied, that it was the truth. But what he would give for his twin to actually be there with him to lift his spirits. But he would never be there again, not completely.

xxxXxxx

_George sobbed quietly, his face buried in his knees. It was so dark and his shoulder really hurt. Where was Mum? Why hadn't she found them yet?  
"Georgie?" Fred shuffled over to his twin, tears in his own eyes to see his brother crying. "Georgie…I'm sowwy..." It was their birthday, bad things weren't supposed to happen on their birthday. They were only four years old today.  
The twins had thought it funny to play hide and seek, choosing naturally the most difficult place to hide together, which so happened to be the basement. It had been Fred's idea to hide there but neither of them had realised that there were in fact no stairs. Only a ladder that now lay flat on the ground before them. George had made to step onto the stairs they assumed were there, only to tumble straight to the hard floor and land hard on his left shoulder.  
Fred wrapped an arm around his younger twin "I'm sowwy….my fault you're hurt…" He sniffed and tried to be brave by holding back the tears but only barely.  
"Fwed, I'm scawed…it's d-dark…"George rubbed his eyes and hugged his brother. "Are you scawed, Fweddie?"  
Fred nodded, he was crying too now, they had been down there for more than an hour and no one had found them.  
George blinked in surprise and pulled himself away to rub his eyes "Bu-But you're not afwaid of a-anything."  
Fred shook his head "Yes I am…I just want to be bwave for you." He sniffed and cuddled his legs. He really was frightened, just like his twin. "But it-it's my fault!" he wailed.  
His brother crawled back over and buried his face into Fred's shoulder. Fred was always the brave one, he had never been afraid of the dark like George was sometimes. He always came up with the ideas for their next escapade and was usually the one who got them both in awful trouble with Mum.  
He loved his twin dearly and the two had never been apart since they were babies, but he felt ashamed that he couldn't be identical to Fred. Fred was so much braver.  
Then he realised, Fred was sobbing too, he really was frightened.  
"I want Mummy…" George whimpered, cuddling into his brother. They had lost the will to cry for help about a half hour ago.  
"I know, Georgie…" Fred hugged him, trying so hard to be a big brother and put on a brave face.  
A thump made both twins jump and glance to the right. Something was there in the basement with them and being children their imaginations ran wild.  
Fred whimpered and picked up a small pipe, throwing it at the direction of the noise. A loud hiss sounded and the next thing the twins knew, a furry shape had hurtled itself at them and Fred screamed.  
The cat scuttled back into the corner still hissing, staring angrily at the boys through its green eyes.  
Fred held a hand to his cheek, whimpering in pain. "It scwatched me…" he drew his hand away to find blood on it.  
George felt like crying again, this wasn't helping their fear of monsters under the bed and he had slipped into his brother's bed on more than one occasion because of that fear. There was one memorable time that they had both run crying into Bill's room because Charlie had thought it funny to hide under Fred's bed and growl loudly then reached up and grabbed Fred's foot.  
"MUMMY!" He cried loudly. His shoulder hurt, Fred was bleeding and they were both terrified and getting cold.  
Fred didn't cry out only wrapped his arms around his brother again, squeezing his hand tightly, trying to tell him it would be alright.  
"It's ok, Georgie…Mummy will find us. I won't let anything huwt you…" He rubbed his cheek again. "We'll always be together…alwight?"  
George looked up into his twin's identical, teary eyes. "Pwomise?"  
Fred nodded and forced a smile "I pwomise. We're twins, wemember?"  
"Always…" George tightened his grip on his twin's hand as footsteps began to clomp about above their heads._

xxxXxxx

'You couldn't keep your promise…' George closed his eyes. He was sick of crying but he couldn't hold back his tears. 'We'll never be together again…'  
He sat huddled by the furnace against his bunk for a good hour before dragging a blanket down over him. It was still early and his internal clock was telling him that now was not the time for sleep. He pulled himself to his feet and stepped over to his satchel. He reached around for a good few minutes before he found what he was searching for. He took the bottle from its box and tossed the wood aside. Holding the crystal up to the light, the engraved words shimmered out at him. He didn't know whether he wanted to know what they said or not. He turned the bottle, watching the aqua liquid swill against the sides. What on earth could be so important that he, George Weasley, had to find a wizard that had been in hiding for who knew how long?  
What would happen if he just drank it? George almost laughed and slipped the bottle inside his coat, reattaching the lining around it with several motions of his wand.

Something blue caught his eye and he glanced down, it must have fallen from the satchel when he drew out the box. He picked up the pentagonal object and raised an eyebrow. It was an unopened chocolate frog. What the heck? It was chocolate and he liked chocolate as much as the next guy. He pulled the string and snatched the frog before it could as much as twitch. It was the card that made him release it in shock though. It was a new card, a very recent one obviously because the wizard featured was Harry Potter. The frog hopped away around the tent, completely forgotten by George who took the card and turned it over to read the back:

_Harry Potter: The first wizard to survive the Killing Curse, earning the title "The Boy Who Lived." Most famously, for the defeat of the most dangerous dark wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort in 1998 and his work and revolutionisation of the Ministry of Magic._

He scoffed and turned it back over, Harry half smiled up at him, shifting his weight from side to side. George shook his head and tossed the card aside. Seriously? Harry was featured on a chocolate frog card now? That probably meant Hermione and Ron were too...goodness. Sure, they were very well known and in Harry's case extremely famous in the wizarding world. But they weren't the only courageous ones. What about the heroes that had gone almost unnoticed except in the obituaries and in a few cases, Skeeter's articles? What about Remus Lupin? And Mad-Eye? He had been one of the most renowned Aurors of all time and yet that didn't merit a chocolate frog card?  
_George…stop this nonsense, not everything is about me, you or Mad-Eye!  
_'Not everything needs to be about Harry, and yet it is! Harry, Harry, Harry!'  
_I'm not going to get into this again with you, George._ Fred had never before sounded so serious. _Would you just accept that I'm gone?  
_'I didn't mention you at all!'  
_You would have. You always do. Look, I'm glad that you refuse to forget me…but…  
_'Blimey, Fred! We're twins. How could I possibly forget you?'  
_I think you need to._

George let the card fall through his fingers and blinked in complete shock. 'What?'  
_I think you need to. You're not going to last if you let my death completely overtake your life. I'm dying all over again to see you dying too.  
_'Impossible. Not gonna happen.' George scowled and got to his feet. Completely forgetting that Fred was in his head, in a place that he couldn't ignore despite his attempts. How dare Fred ask him to forget him?  
"What if I was dead? Would you forget me? Because I would never ask you to do that!" He shouted to the empty tent.  
_George, you know the answer.  
_"Then stop being a hypocrite! Let me deal with this ok! I'm not going to kill myself so stop talking like I am!" He couldn't stop shouting now, he was only glad he was in the middle of a Russian forest where there was no one to tell him he was crazy.  
_You're my brother, I love you man! I want you to get better and if that means forgetting me, then I-I want you to do that.  
_"You really want me to get better? Do you? Fine then!" George snarled, snatching his wand from the bunk and, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white, held it to his head.  
_George…what are you doing?_ Fred's voice wavered cautiously.  
"You want me to get better right? I'm doing that. I ain't gonna get no better than what I'll be real soon."  
_Stop it now.  
_George smiled humourlessly, or rather his lips twisted upwards into a kind of masochistic smirk and he pressed the tip of his wand to his temple.  
_Don't you dare… _Fred's voice was full of nothing but terror.  
"See you soon, Fred._" _George opened his mouth to form the most Unforgiveable of the Unforgiveable curses "Av-"  
_Nooo!  
_His hand wrenched itself away from his head without his consent, twisting his wand to point in the opposite direction. George yelled in pain from the sheer force and tried to regain control of his arm, to little avail, each time he pulled it closer to him, something would twist it back. And he knew what that something was.  
_Over my bloody living body!  
_For an instant, just an instant, George thought he saw his twin's hands trying to wrestle his wand from his hand, and then…  
"I'll not let you!" The words left his own lips but they were not his voice.  
George felt his eyes refill and then he knew. He dropped his wand and leapt back from it as though an invisible shield had erupted between him and the knew then, what he saw was really there, but only for a moment, Fred stood there, a large, bloody gash on his head from the blow that had probably killed him, his identical eyes full of anger and sorrow mixed as one. His pale cheeks, pale as the day the light had left him, shone with tears and more spilled from his blue eyes.  
Then he was gone.  
George stood there, mouth open in a silent scream before he swayed on the spot, began to topple backwards and all went black.

xxxXxxx

Outside the tent, in the falling snow, a shimmering fox sat, its silver eyes staring into the trees. It only moved once that night. Once to turn its head and gaze through the flap toward the unconscious twin.


	18. Where?

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Where?**

_Oh my friends, my friends forgive me  
That I live and you are gone.  
There's a grief that can't be spoken.  
There's a pain goes on and on._

_Phantom faces at the window.  
Phantom shadows on the floor.  
Empty chairs at empty tables  
Where my friends will meet no more.__  
__**Empty Chairs at Empty Tables- Les Miserables**_

xxxXxxx

"Mum!" Bill frowned, admitting himself into the Burrow.  
His mother's voice sounded from the kitchen "Bill? Is that you?"  
"Yeah…" he replied slowly then glanced at the clock on the mantle. Everyone's hand was pointing to where it should, but George's. It was wavering between Lost and Travelling. "Hey…" he made his way into the kitchen where his mother was busying herself with potatoes. "Did George tell you he was going anywhere?"  
Molly bustled from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "No why? What's wrong?" Her voice began to waver in worry.  
Bill turned to face his mother "I went to see him this morning…he's not at the shop…"  
Molly tried to sound confident, but the whitening of her hands as she twisted her apron nervously gave her away "Perhaps he merely went out. It would do him good…"  
"Mum." Bill said seriously "He's gone, I looked around the flat. His bed hasn't been slept in, he's taken most of his clothes."  
Mrs Weasley's lip trembled and she held a hand to her heart. Bill's eyes filled with worry, the long scars on his face standing out against his skin "Mum?" He gently guided her over to an armchair. "Mum? Are you alright?"  
She nodded slowly and buried her face in her hands. "My boy…my Georgie…no, Bill, please…there must have been someone else he went to? Lee?" She cried hopefully, tears glistening in her dark eyes.  
The oldest Weasley child shook his head sadly "I talked to Lee Jordan. He didn't know anything. Mum…I'm really scared for him. If he's run off, there's no telling what he'll do…" He regretted his words as his mother let out a loud wail and buried her face again. Bill rubbed her back, trying to console his weeping mother.  
"P-Percy was right…" she hiccupped a little "Maybe St Mungos was b-best for him…"  
"He would have gone crazy in there…" Bill insisted "You know what they were like."  
Molly only sobbed harder when he said 'they'.  
"We won't be able to save him! Wh-what if he tries to… oh God…what if he has? Bill!" She was rocking back and forth now, almost in hysterics. She was actually beginning to believe that her son had killed himself and tried to make it look like he had run away.  
"Mum! He hasn't! Look!" Bill pointed to the clock, assuming George's hand was resting on travelling. Unfortunately it was beside its twin pointing to Lost…doing nothing to comfort Molly.  
Several calming droughts later, the eldest Weasley boy was beginning to feel like he had switched places with his mother. He wasn't a daddy just yet…he could wait a few more months.  
"George is twenty, Mum. He-He hasn't…you know…he just can't handle being smothered..."  
Molly got to her feet finally and rounded on Bill. "You're encouraging this! I'm not smothering him!"  
"Not just you, Mum…we all are. And I'm not encouraging this. I'm terrified for George actually but I think he can take care of hi-"  
"But he can't! That's just it, William! He needs his family now!" She took several deep breaths, trying to compose herself.  
"Mum...I don't think he does. I-" Bill closed his eyes, trying to keep his tears in check "I've gotta be honest…I know George won't kill himself. But I know that no one can 'elp him…except Fred and that's impossible…he's never really gonna be George again, Mum…"  
"Bill…" Molly said slowly, making her way back into the kitchen to make tea "Do you know something? Has he done anything you didn't tell me about?"  
Her son sighed and lowered himself onto the arm of the armchair, accepting the tea when she bustled back in. Yes, there was. Not long after Christmas when he and Fleur had found the scar on his wrist. Bill really did think his brother attempted suicide. It must be a pathetic existence. One he would never know anything about…that night in May…George had literally lost half of himself.  
"Bill?" She knew her son was hiding something. There was that expression in his eyes…the one that always betrayed his thoughts. "What has George done, Bill?"  
He sighed, hanging his head so his long hair hid his face. "Sorry, George…" he muttered.  
"Yeah…he did try something…"

xxxXxxx

George groaned, holding a hand to his head, the tent swimming before his eyes as he opened them. He felt the back of his head where it had struck the edge of the bunk, rather alarmed to feel dried blood there. He had fainted. How humiliating…well, it would have been had anyone seen him faint. The events of the night flashed past his eyes and he squeezed his eyes closed again. He had hoped and prayed all his life that he would never have to see that look on Fred's face. One of such pure terror and sorrow…so afraid…George wondered then. Fred would never have been able to live if he had died in his place if even after death he looked as though he would live again purely to kill himself.  
How? How was it possible for Fred to have been there, if only for a moment? George had been at the very end of his rope then and if Fred had not stopped him George would not ever have been conscious again.  
George pulled himself into a sitting position. He didn't want to think about this anymore. He crawled and retrieved his wand, holding it as though it would explode in his fingers.  
What time was it? It was long since light and the sun was awfully bright on the snow. George blinked, momentarily blinded and took a proper look at his surroundings. There was little to see but trees and more snow. He crawled back inside to stagger into warmer clothing, keeping his jacket with him after checking to make sure the bottle hadn't broken when he fell.

Fifteen minutes later George was pushing the pile of canvas back into the satchel. He held his wand flat in his palm and said "Point me." At once it spun to point north, the direction he figured he might as well head in. With a lot of luck he might be closer to Moscow than he thought and he dared not Apparate, he didn't know where to Apparate to.

He trudged on silently for what felt like hours and if the sun was anything to go by, it was hours and he felt as though his limbs were moving of their own accord who knew where his mind had wandered to.  
A sudden crunch a way behind him made him stop. The whole time he had some across surprisingly little wildlife. George slowly turned his head and peered into the thick forest behind him, narrowing his eyes.  
A rabbit hopped out from behind a large rock a few metres away and darted past him.  
George relaxed and withdrew his hand from where it was resting on his wand at his belt, feeling rather foolish.  
He was rather skittish after that, flinching at every crack of a twig or flutter of wings as the occasional bird revealed itself. What was wrong with him? Actually, what wasn't wrong with him?  
He was freezing…it wasn't any fun trekking through a forest in Russia in winter with absolutely no clue where the hell he was going. Some kind of wizard he was, he knew the spells and yet George was finding himself unable to be bothered performing them even if it did mean warmth.  
He was resting now, leaning up against a particularly large tree. He burrowed himself deeper into his coat and idly watched the tops of the trees. He was feeling more depressed than usual now, and that was saying something considering he had really honest-to-goodness tried to kill himself last night. What was the point? He would probably die on this 'quest' anyway, he wasn't good enough to handle what was undoubtedly going to come across his path. He wasn't Harry.  
George glanced over his shoulder again, wow, fascinating…another rock. He narrowed his eyes, he could have sworn it had just moved.  
Well, might as well get some use out of this depressing trip. He heaved himself to his feet and found north again before slowly plodding on.

George was paranoid, great just what he needed on top of every other crappy aspect of his pathetic life. Paranoia.  
He took to glancing over his shoulder every minute or so, convinced something was there, until something appeared that made him fix his eyes firmly in front of him. The trees had begun to thin out and George was sure he was getting closer to the edge of the forest. Movement to his left caught his eye and he had to double take to be sure it was there…

A fox was there blinking widely at him…that in itself wasn't overly unusual, what was unusual was that it seemed ever so slightly transparent. Then, quick as a flash, it had darted past George and run off into the trees behind him.

xxxXxxx

"HE WHAT?" Ron roared, sending food spraying from his mouth over the table. Fleur looked at him with an expression of utter disgust on her face and turned back to Mrs Weasley and Bill who had his face in his hands murmuring "Mum…" under his breath.  
"They need to know, Bill, he's their brother after all." She glanced at him, taking a deep breath before continuing. "George has run away, we don't know anything about it only that he's gone."  
Arthur ran a hand over his face and clapped a hand onto Percy's shoulder. "Are you sure, Molly?"  
"That's not all…Bill-B-Bill says…George tried to kill himself a few weeks ago. He had cuts over his wrists."  
There was no uproar like she had expected, only stunned silence, everyone looked at nothing but their plates. Percy's eyes were almost as big as his own. Bill broke the silence without looking up from his hands.  
"We don't know that for sure…"  
"Yes, I think that George was telling the truth…I think it was just an accident." Fleur gently rubbed her husband's back.  
"Slashes across someone's wrists are not accidents!" Ron looked up.  
"I do not believe that George could really end his own life." Fleur insisted as Bill gently took her hand off his shoulder.  
"I do…" Percy muttered from beside his father.  
Everyone fell into silence immediately and turned to Percy. Their beef casserole completely forgotten.  
"Perce…you don't really think…" Bill muttered, finally lifting his rather distraught face.  
"George is a twin. An identical twin to boot. Before May he had never been alone for long periods of time, it was always Fred AND George, or the Weasley TWINS. It was never only Fred and never only George. Identical twins are not born to be separated like that, especially not wizarding twins. I honestly think George has done exceptionally well to survive as long as he has…"  
Percy sniffed and pushed his glasses further up his nose, everyone was staring at him, both Ron and Bill's mouths slightly agape. Percy looked his brothers in the eyes before continuing. "And frankly….I-I don't expect him to last much longer…I want him to! More than anything I want him to go on living…" he added hastily at the look in Molly's eyes. "But I don't think he can handle it much longer."  
Bill buried his face in his hands again and Fleur resumed rubbing his back gently. Molly's lip trembled and she looked as though she were about to burst into tears again. Both Harry and Arthur were staring directly at Ron who was on his feet and slamming his palms down on the table.  
"Shut it! Don't you dare talk that way about George!" He roared. "I don't think those cuts were accidents but don't you dare talk about George as though he's about to throw himself off a cliff. Give him some credit, Percy!"  
"Ron's right…" Bill mumbled, stifling a sniff behind his hands. "I don't know what's happening to him but George is stronger than you give him credit for."  
"Enough!" Arthur burst out "Ron, sit down! Percy, stop depressing everyone!"  
Slowly Ron lowered himself back into his seat and Percy looked down at his plate again as their father continued. "Personally, I think Percy is right…as horrible as it sounds…"  
"Ar-Arthur…please...don't…" Molly wiped her eyes with a tissue not looking at her husband.  
He fell silent and after that no one said a word during the meal. The only sounds coming from the clinking of silverware on plates, Molly's quiet sobs and Bill's occasional grunts as Fleur tried to comfort him.

xxxXxxx

The young married couple left earlier than they had intended, the evening had proved to be nothing more than depressing.  
Fleur disappeared upstairs to bed immediately as they arrived at Shell Cottage; Bill kissed her goodnight and collapsed in the living room, staring into the dying embers.  
_Where are you George? What have you done?  
_He shot upright suddenly and dashed across the room to the cluttered desk beneath the window. Snatching up a quill and parchment he unscrewed the ink bottle and began to write.

_George,_

_I came to see you at the shop today. You weren't there obviously, no one knows where you are so it's obvious you don't want anyone to make a fuss.  
But really, someone had to find out didn't they? _

_Where are you George?  
Everyone's terrified for you, they all think that you've run away to kill yourself and I'll be honest…I don't know what to think. Percy in particular thinks that since we lost Fred you've lost the will to live because twins are not born to be separated like that. He doesn't think you are able to handle it any longer and he really doesn't expect you to last in a life like the one you've been forced to lead. The horrible thing is that Dad agrees.  
I had no choice but to tell Mum about the cuts on your wrists…of course that didn't help matters.  
I think you're stronger than they're giving you credit for though…but again, I'll be honest, I think you did try to off yourself that time in the shop. Did you? Tell me honestly George._

Bill paused there to wipe his eyes, trying not to let the tears fall onto the parchment.

_Oh George, if you could see what you're doing to this family…what's left of it anyway. I really hope that whatever you've run after…it had better be worth the fright you're giving this family.  
I'm your brother George…I know that I can never, EVER be what Fred was and I really don't ever want to replace him but I want to help you, mate…I want you to tell me what the hell is going on!_

He had to stop…his hand was shaking too much to write steadily now and Bill leaned back in the chair for a good few minutes taking steadying breaths before he trusted himself to pick up the quill again.

_I hope this reaches you and that you trust me enough not to just chuck it away. I promise, I will not tell Mum or Dad or anyone anything that you tell me…_

_Despite what's happening with you, Fleur's glowing. We're all getting really excited now, the baby's due to arrive in a few months. Imagine…me! William Arthur Weasley, a daddy! I still can't believe it! I do hope you'll still be godfather because we'd like nothing better._

_Hoping to hear news that you are at least alive…_

_Bill._

_P.S. I can't help feeling that it's a girl!_

Bill sighed and dropped the eagle feather quill back onto the wood of the desk. He gazed down at the ink as it lay glistening and fresh on the parchment and stood picking up the letter and folding it into an envelope. He left the envelope unmarked and absentmindedly ran a hand down the long scars across his face shuddering slightly.  
Gripping the letter in his hand he spun on the spot and Disapparated.

xxxXxxx

Ten minutes later Percy's handsome screech owl, Hermes nipped the finger of the eldest Weasley child, stretched his wings and flew from the window of the Burrow's kitchen. Its only instructions were. "Find George."


	19. Sticks and Stones

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Sticks and Stones**

_Did you try to live on your own  
When you burned down the house and home?  
Did you stand too close to the fire  
Like a liar looking for forgiveness from a stone?_

_When it's time to live and let die  
And you can't get another try  
Something inside this heart has died  
You're in ruins  
__**21 Guns- Green Day**_

xxxXxxx

George blinked, trying to figure out if he had really seen what he thought he had seen. How many foxes were pale and transparent?  
He shook his head; there were only two people he knew who had a fox for a patronus. One was Seamus Finnigan and the other was dead…but it hadn't even looked that much like a patronus anyway. George shrugged it off and turned to continue on his way.  
The fox hadn't lightened his mood at all, he was every bit as grouchy and miserable as he had been before.  
He allowed himself to gain even the tiniest speck of comfort however when he saw the merciful end to the trees some hours late. A feeling that was dashed upon the rocks however when a loud bang that shook the ground echoed somewhere behind him. George spun, wild-eyed, his hand on his wand but found no one in sight. George narrowed his eyes and slowly began to step backward, his eyes darting around for the source of the bang.

The Weasley was not able to relax even a little, there had been something rather foreboding about that noise. He didn't dare venture out of the shelter of the trees, perhaps foolishly, and he really didn't know why. Sighing in frustration he peered out from behind a particularly large pine.  
He was facing the back of what appeared to be the back of a small, homey looking cottage, a large paddock with patches of grass revealing themselves beneath the white cover of snow and containing several long-horned cattle was situated about fifty metres from where George watched.  
What were the chances the inhabitants thereof spoke English? Because George certainly didn't speak Russian. French? Yes. Russian? Definitely not.  
He grunted, they probably didn't what with his luck. He shouldn't bother trying.  
Another bout of hopelessness overtook him then and George slumped miserably against the trunk, pulling his wand out and twirling it between his fingers.  
Fred wasn't around now, George was sure of it. He could do it now. No one would miss him now that Fred was gone. He doubted anyone really cared as much as they said they did, Fred had always been the favourite twin.  
_That's a downright lie.  
_'Oh…you are here…'  
_Damn straight I am. You don't really believe that Mum loves either of us more than the other?  
_'How would you know what I believe?'  
George scowled, slamming his show down on a stray twig.  
Dead Fred's reply was equally angry and he sounded rather hurt.  
_Maybe because we're identical?  
_'We're not identical! Not since I got this gaping hole in my head!'  
_I know what's wrong with you, Georgie…  
_George almost lost it then and roared loudly.  
"MY NAME IS NOT GEORGIE! IT'S GEORGE!"  
At that moment he froze and blinked. The fox was back with what looked, at first glance, like a rock clutched in its jaws. On closer inspection however, George saw that there appeared to be a body attached. It looked a little like a gnome only slightly taller with a short spiked tail and an oversized head that was almost indistinguishable from a rock.  
George knelt down and squinted at the struggling demon, third year Defence Against the Dark Arts beginning to come back to him.  
It was a Pogrebin: A foot tall Russian demon that trailed humans causing the unsuspecting victim to suffer a sense of hopelessness and despair.  
He could have laughed and almost immediately it was as though an immense shroud had been lifted. Absentmindedly George reached forth a trembling hand to the fox which had dropped its quarry.  
"Fred? That's you isn't it?"  
It only blinked at him for a second before it flinched away from the twin's hand and leapt away back into the trees.  
George released the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and hung his head.  
'I'm sorry, Freddie…'  
He glanced again at the demon that was shaking its tiny fist at him and kicked it rather savagely before resuming his act of observing the cottage.  
A loud shout startled him and he spun yet again, this was beginning to get annoying, to face a man. A big man. He couldn't have been too much shorter than Hagrid and was covered in thick furs, holding what appeared to be a long metal stick.  
George only raised both eyebrows and shook his head as the Russian began to speak gruffly in…well…Russian.  
"Vernutʹsya na moĭ malʹchik ty?"  
"I don't speak Russian….English? Ennnggllliiissshhh?"  
The man glowered darkly and replied in well pronounced but thickly accented English.  
"Ov course I speak English, you fool!"  
"Oh…" George's eyes returned to the strange stick in his hands.  
He growled and pulled something that made an audible click.  
"Back fvor my boy, are yeh?"  
The wizard stared at him strangely. "Uh…what?" he said, slowly reaching for his wand.  
"Vhere is my daughter? Speak or I blow yeh other ear ov!"  
George self-consciously raised a gloved hand to the hole in his head and stupidly opened and closed his mouth like a fish for several moments before words formed.  
"I don't have your daughter…I ju-"  
"You are here vy?"  
"I'm lose alright! I ain't even Russian!"  
"You vant my boy!" The man bellowed and raised the object.  
"What, may I ask, do you think you'll do with a metal stick?" He raised his wand.  
The man gaped then, this boy was holding a literal stick and he called a shot gun a metal stick? He shook his head slightly and fired the gun once into the air. Narrowly missing a nesting bird.

George jumped, startled and opened his mouth to form a spell, unfortunately the Russian's weaspon was faster and the tree beside George's head, only a few centimetres from his remaining ear, started to smoke slightly.  
"Go! Before you die!" The man shouted at the same instant George cried.  
"Protego!" Confident that his shield would stop whatever magic the metal weapon produced, George began to back away.  
"I didn't do anything."  
"Enough…" The fur coated man took careful aim and fired. The Weasley recognised danger and began to retreat rapidly though sure that his shield charm would hold. It did hold but could not deflect the bullet as it sped towards George.

He didn't register the pain immediately and just kept moving until he could hear no more earth shaking bangs. Only then did he stop and as the adrenaline wore off did the pain come.  
George didn't realise why his side was burning but it was hell. Earning a sharp hiss of pain he grabbed the offending side he touched the offending side and drew his hand away immediately. It was scarlet with blood and within a few moments he felt as though someone had thrown oil over him and then set fire to his flesh.  
"Muggles have to die like this?" He hissed through his teeth holding back the painful tears that threatened to fall. He gently felt his back and turned to see flecks of blood peppering the snow. Whatever had injured him, it had gone straight through his body.  
He dropped the satchel and, keeping his right hand against his side, he frantically grabbed around inside the bag.  
The pain was overwhelming and George found himself gasping for air violently. So this was what it was like to be dying…he wondered vaguely as he gave up his search, literally watching his skin whiten from blood loss. The paleness quite a contrast to the darkness beginning to shroud his vision.

xxxXxxx

"_How far do you reckon we can get?" Fred grinned, an evil glint in his cerulean eyes.  
George returned the grin identically as the twins stared out over the Black Lake. Its normally glassy surface was completely frozen over.  
"Let's find out."  
It was their first year at Hogwarts and new snow blanketed the grounds; it was the intention of the Weasley twins to see how far they could walk out over the newly frozen water. As one they stepped out onto the ice, being sure to put all their weight on it to test its strength.  
"Seems solid enough…" Fred said, taking another step.  
Together the brothers walked out further a good thirty feet before an ominous creaking sounding beneath their sneakers.  
"The ice is getting pretty thin…" George bit his lip, still taking another step behind his twin regardless.  
Fred began to walk faster and only as a crack began to appear in the ice did he stop. Looking downhe could see the dark, twisting seaweed dancing slowly below him. George remained a few feet back, the ice couldn't take any more weight.  
"Fred, I don't think we can get any further…"  
The older twin turned and grinned at George "Alright…just one more step."  
he took an unconsciously deep breath and took the last step. Nothing happened…the ice held.  
"Yes!" He whooped and threw a hand into the air triumphantly.  
As he had said, Fred made to make his was back to his grinning brother. It was surreal really, one moment Fred was grinning and beginning to make his way carefully back and the next he was gone. The ice had broken beneath Fred's weight, sending the eleven year old plunging into the freezing water.  
"Fred!" Not bothering about the weakened ice, George ran the few feet and dropped beside the hole in the ice. "Fred!"  
His brother threw an arm onto the ice, attempting to support himself, it didn't work and he slipped off immediately._

_It was cold. Far too cold. Fred was sure he could physically feel his skin turning blue as he fell under the water again. George had thrown his arm into the lake and Fred could see his lips crying out in panic. He surfaced again and grabbed wilding for George's hand.  
"Help!"  
Then he was down again as though he were being pulled under. Fred looked down. He was being pulled under, the weeds had wrapped themselves around his ankle and were tugging firmly. He looked up again and tried to cry for his twin, it didn't work and his lungs filled with water. Then he almost screamed…the ice was beginning to close over him. George was screaming, smashing at the ice that had covered the water.  
The drowning twin wrenched his ankle free and kicked up to the ice. He was going to die, drown in the Black Lake in just his first year. George's blurry eyes were wild as he tried to reach through the ice and Fred knew that his own eyes must look identical._

_George had by now pulled out his wand and was incessantly striking it against the ice. They had not yet learned the necessary spells. He tossed it aside and pressed his palms flat against the ice.  
"Fred! Fred, no!" He was near hysterics now and burst into terrified sobs as his twin stared helplessly up at him, beginning to sink slowly.  
"Diffindo!" A loud cry from above George and the splintering of ice made the violently shaking twin look up. A panicked Charlie had thrown half of his body into the water, clinging tightly to his broom with the dry half.  
A moment later Charlie emerged, clutching his nearly drowned little brother around the chest. He heaved himself back onto his broom, with great effort, to prevent the ice caving under the added weight and sped back toward the shore…rather lopsidedly.  
George, not giving a damn about the ice, tore off, sliding across the ice after his brothers._

_A crowd had gathered by this time as Gryffindor's seeker landed heavily with the twin, dropping him face first onto the snow. He rolled Fred onto his back and promptly set about drying his robes, moving his wand quickly over them.  
George wasn't long after, pushing through the crowd to his twin.  
"Fred! Freddie…a-are you-"  
The two-thirds drowned Weasley shook his head, shivering head to foot, his skin rapidly going bluer.  
"C-c-c-cold…"  
"Oughta the way! Move it all o' yeh!" A deep voice bellowed as Hagrid forced the crown back, throwing his old moleskin overcoat over Fred who almost drowned all over again in the massive article.  
The giant of a man picked him up gently and turned to the elder Weasley as he tapped his elbow.  
"Hagrid, he needs to go to the Hospital Wing!"  
"Ah, no 'e don't! 'e'll be fine soon as 'e brings up all 'at water. C'mon, it's warmed off in my cabin boys."  
Charlie grabbed George, who was equally shaky as his twin, by the shoulder and steered him toward the gamekeeper's cabin.  
"You two are in so much trouble…"  
George looked up at him, suddenly scared "You won't tell Professor McGonagall will you? Fred and I will get detentions for weeks!"  
"Noo…" Charlie raised an eyebrow and slung his broom over his shoulder "But I MIGHT write to Mum."  
"Charlie…you wouldn't…" Fred said quietly, lifting his head slightly as Hagrid gently put him down by the fire.  
"Yeh real lucky there…if yer brother 'adn't been such a damn good flier…well…I'll make tea shall I?" _

xxxXxxx

**I'm back! Thank you all so much for being so patient! Here's chapter 19 for you all! Oh...and a special shoutout to whoever can spot the almost complete song line in there**_ =P  
_


	20. Concentration

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty**

**Concentration**

_Almost giving up on trying  
Almost heading for a fall  
And now my mind is screaming out  
I've gotta keep on fighting  
But then again  
It doesn't end_

_I'm heavily broken  
And I don't know what to do  
Can't you see that I'm choking  
And I can't even move  
__**Heavily Broken- The Veronicas**_

xxxXxxx

George awoke with a start. The last thing he remembered was the blinding, white-hot pain and everything going black. So…why was he in a bed? And why was he not in pain?  
He glanced to the side; his coat, shirt and belt were slung over a chair and his satchel beside them. Absentmindedly he looked down and gingerly pressed his wounded side. He winced, yeah, it still hurt…it looked almost healed now and a long scar was left, stretching across to his back.  
'I'm definitely dead. I must be…'  
_No. You're not actually._  
'Damn.'  
George could almost feel the glare he was sure Fred was shooting him.  
He made to get out of the very warm bed but froze as the door opened, admitting entrance to a short, little old lady who, to George's surprise, spoke in perfect English.  
"Now dear, don't strain yourself." She smiled, a gesture ruined by the absence of several teeth. George stared at her.  
"Why am I here? H-How-"  
"I found you in the woods dear…" she hobbled around the bed, pushing him and back and fluffing the pillows. "You were bleeding all over the snow so…." Here she prodded his wound, ignoring his attempts to try to squirm from her. "I carried you here."  
"You? You carried me?" George raised an eyebrow.  
"Looks can be deceiving." She smiled again "Now stay. I'll fetch you some fresh pie. You need a little more meat on your bones, boy."  
George gaped as she left the room. What the heck was going on? He sat bolt upright again, suddenly realizing something. Where was his wand?  
The lady reappeared quickly and sighed.  
"Goodness me. You won't heal any faster if you act so rashly."  
"Where's my wand?" George snapped, his eyes flitting quickly to the large slices of delicious smelling pie and back to her.  
"Wand dear?" she frowned slightly. "You carried a sort of stick if that's what you mean…"  
He rolled his eyes "Yes…"  
The woman sighed "I thought it was just a stick, I threw it in the fire."  
"You what?" George threw off the covers, wild eyed and leapt to his feet.  
"But the most curious thing…it didn't burn…" she picked up the pie again and fixed the man with a funny look. "It's over there." She said nodding to the cabinet by the door on top of which George's wand rested.  
He relaxed a little, eying her cautiously as she made her way over to him again.  
"Eat. It's just come out of the oven. You're too skinny." And with that she set down the pie and left.

George sat staring at the food until his stomach decided to make its presence known. He flushed despite himself and eyed the pastry.  
'What do you think it is?  
_I don't know, she's kinda creepy.  
_He shrugged, took a bite of the pie and frowned. It had a rather unusual taste.  
'I still can't believe you're talking to me again. This is really weird…'  
_Neither can, Lugless. Oi…what if that pie's poisoned?  
_'So what if it is?' he scoffed 'I get to die and you don't have to worry about me killing mys-'  
_Shut up, George.  
_He grunted, dropped the plate onto the edge of the mattress and glanced at his torn and bloodied clothing. It was a pity…he had liked that coat too…  
Sighing he reached about for fresh clothes and pulled them on, almost, but not quite, forgetting to relocate the thankfully tough bottle.

Without warning and with the suddenness of Apparition the whole house seemed to lurch sideways. The plate toppled from its perch on the bed and shattered on the wooded boards and George was forced to clutch the post to keep from falling himself.  
"What the hell?" he cried as all fell still and silent again. Snatching his wand he dashed from the room, satchel over his shoulder and hopping to pull his shoe on.

xxxXxxx

The old woman looked up as George fumbled his way into the kitchen and made for what he assumed to be the front door.  
"Where are you off to in such a rush, boy?" she asked, almost accusingly.  
He stopped with one hand on the door. "Well I ain't staying here."  
"Whatever are you leaving so soon for?" She wiped her hands and brushed the crumbs of pastry from her chin.  
"The bloody house just moved!" He yelled, staring at her like she was crazy….which she may well have been.  
"Poor boy…that bullet must have affected your brain." She cooed as though he were five and pulled firmly away from the door.  
George resisted and tried to pry his arm away from her grip but stopped as he remembered something that had been bugging him and voiced the thought.  
"How long was I asleep?"  
"Two or three days…" she replied, her eyes narrowing as though examining something. Which indeed she was. Him, George realised as he was forced into a chair.  
_She's an old bat, you could overpower her in a second!  
_"Yes…I'd say early twenties, you're quite older than I usually like. But you'll have to do. Bit peaky, very freckled…good. Though…" she frowned, roughly pulling his hair to check the roots "Red heads tend to be rather stringy…I don't think so!" she cried, swiping her hand sideways and knocking George's wand from his hand.  
"What is wrong with you?" he muttered, and winced as her fingers cut into his wrists.  
She snapped something in Russian and thick cords burst from the back and legs of the chair. They wound their way tightly around the wizard, effectively binding his legs and from his chest to his elbows against the chair.  
"What's wrong with me, boy? I'm so very busy hungry…I've only one little girl left and she's a tiny little thing. Well…her and the young hunter's toddler but there's only crusts left of him…"  
George went green as the…woman…gestured to the crusts of pie that rested in the dish on the table.  
'Oh God….I-I ate…'  
She grinned evilly "That's right. Dear. I like to give me meals a little taste of what they're about to become."  
"You evil, sick old hag…" George, greener now, spat out as she leered over him.  
She only laughed and traced his jaw slowly, her gnarled old finger elongating, the fingernail beginning to sharpen.  
"I do prefer younger, tenderer meat, thirteen or fourteen years, but as I said you'll have to do. Strong jaw but…" she sharply turned his face with enough force to possibly strain a muscle in his neck "Only one ear? How peculiar…ah HA!" she shrieked. Effectively startling George.  
"You're a twin! One of the sweetest meats. So good, when I can get it, I sometimes eat it raw…" she lips her lips with an almost forked tongue and opened her mouth, far wider than any human should be able, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth.  
George pulled his head away as best as he was able in his current, bound condition. How could she possibly tell that he was a twin? Despite how much he really did long for death sometimes he had absolutely had no intention nor desire to be eaten, raw or otherwise.  
He wand lay only a few feet away if he could just… her claw like hands were quicker and clamped down on his outstretched fingers. He winced and couldn't help his eyes widening as the rather demonic face leaned closer to his flesh, teeth bared hungrily.  
'Little help here!'  
_Mate…that is messed up!  
_Desperately he screwed up his eyes, forcing the bonds with all his strength. If he was to be eaten he at least didn't want to see it.  
No. Like hell he was gonna let some Russian hag eat him!

A sudden scream from behind him distracted her. The teeth receded and she drew back snarling.  
"I'll be back for you." She muttered angrily and disappeared.  
"Oh God…what is going on in this bloody country?" he groaned to himself "Help me…Fred."  
There was no reply. George couldn't believe it, Fred had gone, he had actually gone, and he was really going to let George die. He glanced at his wand on the floor, trying desperately to summon it with his mind. It gave a sort of feeble jump and then lay still.  
At that moment the house gave another great lurch sending George toppling sideways onto the floor. A searing pain rushed up his side as the cords cut into his wound, accompanying the throb in his head as it struck the floor. He bit his lip angrily, feeling a warm trickle of blood running over his head.  
The hag reappeared, slamming shut a door to George's left.  
"Get up!" she snapped, grabbing the back of his chair and hoisting him up, much to his displeasure.  
"Why bother healing me if you want to eat me?" he snarled as she wiped away the blood on his forehead.  
She stared at him like he was stupid "Have you eaten spoiled meat?"  
The claw-like fingernails extended again, digging into his cheek as she lifted his face.  
'I'm gonna die…I'm actually going to die today.' Was all that went through George's head, over and over again, he had just about given up now and despite himself he whispered aloud "I'm coming, Fred."  
_Like hell you are!_

Fred's voice echoed loudly in his mind as though he were standing right beside him again. But George could swear he could feel his brother's hand on his shoulder. Even as the Baba Yaga leaned in hungrily he actually glanced at his shoulder and promptly his azure eyes widened.  
There was a hand there, clutching firmly as though George's shoulder was the only thing tying him to this world.  
Fred didn't even glance at his brother but glared at the hag as though he was about to lunge at her. Which George was sure he would have done had he not been dead.  
_Concentrate, George. Just concentrate.  
_He drew strength from his twin's presence even if he would not look at him. George closed his eyes, though he did not want to draw his eyes away from Fred, and tried to concentrate.  
It was broken quickly as he felt his coat and shirt being pushed off his shoulders and a second later he screamed.  
She had bitten into his shoulder and none too gently. The pain was greater even than that he had felt when whatever projectile it was had shot him.  
He was shaking violently and Fred's grip tightened.  
_Bloody hell! Damn it! Concentrate, George!  
_He wanted to yell and shout at his brother that it was kind of hard to concentrate when there were teeth in your shoulder. But he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the blood pouring down his chest and over his clothes. It didn't work but nonetheless he tried to keep his concentration.  
George screamed again but as one both twins cried "Relashio!"  
The cords binding George snapped without the use of a wand and he viciously threw the monster from his shoulder, screaming in pain as he felt her take some of his flesh with her.  
Still crying out in pain, he crawled and grabbed his fallen wand, sending a jet of red into the screeching beast's chest sending her promptly flew back into the wall.  
George staggered to his feet and murderously aimed his wand at the stunned, unmoving figure.  
"You sick, ugly hag…" he muttered viciously and then unflinchingly uttered the spell  
"Avada Kedavra!"  
One flash of green light, one jerk of the body and she was dead.  
Swaying on his feet unsteadily, George touched his shoulder and barely bit back another scream. It stung like nothing else could and there was definitely a piece missing.  
_You did it George. You actually did it.  
_"Did bloody what?" he spat aloud, gripping his shoulder and trying his hardest not to tremble.  
_You actually killed.  
_'Did you expect me to do otherwise? That thing tried to eat me in case you didn't notice that!'  
_It's scary watching you kill like that.  
_George ignored the voice of his twin and shakingly aimed his wand into the satchel. "Accio dittany."  
At once the little bottle flew into George's hand. He did a double take as he lifted his eyes to his right to find no one.  
Those precious seconds Fred had been with him had felt so much like it should be. Like Fred were alive again. But he had gone again and George couldn't be sure he had really been there at all or if it was just him losing his head.  
Choking back the lump in his throat he poured some of the liquid onto the gruesome wound. Immediately new skin began to stretch itself over the spot that flesh had once been. The blood stopped pouring over his chest and down his back, and George yelled again as the process occurred painfully.  
Unable to hold it back, he trembled violently as he looked again at the unmoving corpse and then at the crusts of toddler pie.  
His stomach gave an almighty, none-too-gentle heave and he dropped to his knees, smashing them hard against the wooden floor and vomited violently. Emptying his stomach effectively and feeling himself turn steadily greener as he tried not to imagine a little boy being baked into a pie.

xxxXxxx

It was a good five minuted before he managed to get off the floor and stand, however unsteadily. A sudden thought struck him and he turned in the direction the scream had come from earlier. His eyes hardened,, he really didn't feel like playing hero to a kid who was probably dead by now anyway.  
He didn't really give a damn about anyone anymore. Maybe it was the cruel adrenaline that came from killing or maybe it was just the kind of person grief and depression was turning him into. If George was honest with himself he'd have to say the latter was more likely.  
He ignored the blood over his clothes and skin and shouldered the bag again, casting a dark look around the kitchen that would have looked lovely had it not been the corpse spoiling the otherwise grandmotherly scene.  
George spun and pushed his way through the front door taking the snow and freezing wind as a great relief as he stepped out into it.  
It was a completely different world compared to the warm and inviting interior and the feel of the wind on his no longer whole shoulder was most unpleasant, even beneath the layers of clothing covering it.  
George was trembling now but only half from the cold. Trembling was all he could do now to keep from sobbing, from curling up and sobbing like a little child again.  
If Fred thought that letting his twin see him again would make George feel better, he was sadly mistaken. It only made him long for death and long to be with Fred again more.  
And now it was as though Fred had truly abandoned him. He had returned long enough to effectively save his brother's life, make a comment about George killing and then he was gone.


	21. Ivan

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Ivan**

_So let me fall  
If I must fall  
I won't heed your warnings  
I won't hear them_

_Let me fall  
If I fall  
Though the phoenix may  
Or may not rise  
__**Let Me Fall- Josh Groban**_

xxxXxxx  
**Thanks again to everyone for your support of this story! A shoutout to all of you =D **

**Oh and for everyone who did not know, in the last chapter the hag was a Baba Yaga. Which is a Russian hag who eats children, I figure it was based on Hansel and Gretel.**

xxxXxxx

"_Fred! Hurry it up would you, they're almost here!"  
The elder twin hurriedly dropped his pillow back onto his bed and shot up as his twin dashed into the room.  
"What are you doing? Come on!"  
"Alright, alright! Keep your hair on!" Fred grabbed his wand and followed his twin through the small flat. Glancing around sadly at what they were leaving behind.  
No sooner had they reached the landing outside the door both Weasleys froze as one. In unison they each held a finger to their lips and glanced at each other.  
Seconds later a loud crash echoed and several loud clucks followed. George winced, that was definitely the shelf of fake wands.  
"They're up there." A deep voice, much closer to a growl than a human voice, muttered loudly several floors below the twins.  
A delighted shriek rang in their heads as a Death Eater confirmed their whereabouts.  
"Can't miss 'em with that hair! Come on boys, come down and play!" As she shrieked, a jet of red light flew alarmingly close to Fred's hand where it rested on the banister.  
He turned to his younger twin as the Death Eaters smashed more shelves intentionally to attempt to draw them out and began their ascent of the many flights of stairs.  
"George, go ahead to Aunty Muriel's. Bill will have gotten Mum and Dad there by now."  
George stared at him like he had just sprouted a second head.  
"Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you here-bloody hell!" _ _He ducked a curse aimed at his head and fired one back at the offending wizard.  
They were running now, heads down, across the floor below their flat.  
"Go! I'll stall them and I'll be right behind you. I promise…now go, Lugless!"  
Fred shoved him firmly behind a case of love potions, ducking behind a crate himself.  
George stared at his brother in fear for a moment and swallowed uncertainly.  
"Fred…"  
Fred shuddered as something behind his back splintered and, not bothering to keeps his voice low any longer, shouted at his twin.  
"Don't be an idiot! Go!"  
His twin looked at him fearfully and said quietly "Don't be long." Before Disapparating.  
Fred stared at the spot George had been for a moment, relief spreading over him. His twin was safe.  
The unmistakeable voice of Bellatrix Lestrange sounded from somewhere to Fred's right.  
"Don't try and hide dears…you do know what the penalty for being a stinking…" a curse smashed into the wall "rotten-" another whizzed over his head "Blood traitor is?"  
Fred clenched his jaw angrily. That was it. They attack himself and his twin, they destroy what the twins had worked so hard for all their lives, their dream, and they insult his family.  
Gripping his wand so tightly he thought it may sink into his skin and become one with his hand he leapt out from behind the crate. The portable swamps were on the first floor beneath him so without wasting a second he fired a stunning spell at Lestrange, who had just spun to face him, and bolted toward the staircase.  
To make sure he was seen by whatever Death Eaters had come after them, Fred leapt onto the banister and surfed down it. It worked and no less than four curses all collided as he jumped.  
He chanced to pause a foot behind the Portable Swamps and leant casually against the wall.  
"Only four?" he cried as they advanced "I'm a bit insulted really…" he grinned rather maniacally.  
As one four voices all cried "Avada kedavra!" along with Fred who had taken aim at the many Portable Swamps and cried, "Incendio!"  
Not sticking around to see if it worked, and narrowly missing dying four times over, Fred Weasley Disapparate._

_Molly wrung her hands tightly and glanced worriedly at her oldest son.  
"Where are they, Bill? You said they were coming?"  
"The boys will be fine, Molly." Arthur gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders "You know how much they love that shop."  
Bill, who refused to leave until he knew his family was safe, straightened up at the doorway of his Aunt's.  
"Look. That's George!"  
Sure enough the one-eared twin was making his way up the garden path. Green waistcoat gleaming. Asking Fred and George to wear something inconspicuous was like asking a penguin to fly or a tiger to take off his stripes.  
Molly bustled her way out to meet him at once, embracing him tightly.  
"Thank heavens you're alright. But…where's Fred?"  
George forced a smile "He's coming."  
"Have the Death Eaters got to Wheezes yet?" Bill frowned.  
His brother nodded solemnly "Yeah, just as we were leaving. That's why Fred stayed, to delay them." He explained, attempting and failing to hide his fear.  
This was something that did not go unnoticed by his mother and she promptly pulled him inside for a hot cup of tea.  
George did nothing but stare at the window for the next five minutes. Only standing as soon as he saw Fred's unmistakeable form, complete with powder blue waistcoat, hurrying over the cobbled path.  
He reached the door before anyone could meet him outside and let himself into the house.  
Molly launched herself upon her son immediately. One would have thought he'd been missing for days rather than minutes by the way she was acting.  
"My boy! Thank goodness! We're all safe."  
He raised an eyebrow "Mum? It's not that big of a deal…really."  
Nevertheless, as soon as he was released from her grip Fred nodded at Bill and his father and embraced George firmly.  
"Sorry…" he whispered. He hated having to leave his twin but he knew he'd hate it even more if George sent him away. _

xxxXxxx

George could have sworn it had been days rather than hours since he had woken up in the home of a Baba Yaga. Every tree looked exactly the same as the last tree and every clump of snow the same as the last clump of snow.  
He was following north and rechecking the direction every so often.  
It came as a great shock when a large bird swooped very low over George's head. A bird that looked rather familiar and as it landed on a low limb a few feet from the wizard, George recognized it.  
"Hermes?"  
The owl screeched in confirmation and held out its leg, revealing the envelope tied there.  
George simply stared at it and threw a rather reproachful look at the bird as though he detested it for delivering word from the last people he wished to talk to, his family.  
Hermes hooted impatiently and flew over to land on George's shoulder. Sticking the leg bearing the letter under his nose.  
He grunted and untied it reluctantly, to the bird's relief. Hermes immediately nibbled at George's ear expectantly.  
"Get off! I don't have any food for you." He pushed the owl away grumbling.  
The bird gave a very indignant hoot and nipped his ear extremely hard before flying off immediately, sure to cuff him over the head.  
"Bloody bird…" George scowled, rubbing his ear before turning the envelope over in his hands. It was unmarked but judging from the owl, it was likely from Percy. No doubt berating him for abandoning his family.  
George tucked the letter away and threw himself down onto a rock. This wasn't worth it. It was not worth freezing and starving and being in pain.  
He wasn't entirely sure why but George looked up then and didn't know whether to groan or smile. Though smiling would have taken quite an effort. Somehow, and he had no idea how, he had found himself facing what he was pretty sure was the same cottage he had found a few days earlier.  
He could either wander around looking for who-knows-what and freeze, or try to tell them that he wanted to get to Moscow without being attacked again.  
No. Freezing sounded strangely more appealing. George rubbed his hands together and leant back against the tree trunk, pulling the letter from its hiding place. He unfolded it from the envelope and blinked in surprise as he recognized Bill's slanting handwriting.

xxxXxxx

He reread the letter twice before really registering the inked words.  
Bill actually thought he had tried to kill himself that time? Really? And Dad and Percy both really expected him not to survive?  
But then, George had to be honest with himself, the way things were going now, he didn't really expect him to survive. Percy was right, identical twins were not born to be separated so cruelly.

_I'm your brother George…I know that I can never, EVER be what Fred was and I really don't ever want to replace him but I want to help you, mate…I want you to tell me what the hell is going on!_

That part was almost touching. Bill seemed to be the only one who wasn't trying to make George completely forget about Fred and didn't want him replaced. George was very grateful for that, even if he wouldn't say so.

_Despite what's happening with you, Fleur's glowing. We're all getting really excited now, the baby's due to arrive in a few months. Imagine…me! William Arthur Weasley, a daddy! I still can't believe it! I do hope you'll still be godfather because we'd like nothing better._

He had completely forgotten that he was going to be an uncle, George blinked to himself, and now he faced a difficult decision. Should he reply to the letter? He supposed he had to. But ought he to tell Bill anything, anything at all about him?

Tucking the letter away again, George closed his eyes and rubbed his shoulder, wincing. The new skin did not take away the pain.

xxxXxxx

"Zachem ty zdesʹ?"  
George looked up. He was lying on the snow now. He supposed he must have fallen asleep, how he did not know, having slept for a few entire days.  
A little girl stood above him, she looked about eight years old. Her dark hair that hung about her face was crowned with a distinctly Russian fur hat.  
He sat up quickly, brushing the snow from himself.  
"What?"  
"Kto vy?" She asked and George noticed that several purple bruises were showing over her face, and a long scar down one cheek like she had been scratched badly.  
"I don't speak Russian, kid." He muttered, vaguely registering that fact that he probably looked like a homeless person, huddled out in the trees behind someone's home.  
She gasped and her eyes widened as she backed away slightly, pointing at his chest "Ty krovotechenie…"  
George guessed what she said then, looking down to see all the blood over his clothes.  
He grunted and scrunched down again. "Leave me alone…"  
Apparently she did not understand him and the next thing he knew she was pulling his arm.  
"Papa sdelaet vas luchshe…"  
"Wait…you live there?" George frowned, in no mood to resist as she tugged him toward the cottage.  
He wasn't even entirely sure why he was allowing her to pull him inside the back door, but he was. Maybe he was too tired to resist.

xxxXxxx

The moment he was half dragged by a girl half his size over the threshold into what was apparently a kitchen, George almost turned and ran right back out.  
The giant of a man who he recognized as the man who had shot him, stood up from the small, wooden table at once.  
"Sofiya!" he cried, half shocked and half joyful.  
The little girl beamed with delight and dropped the arm of the man she forgot she had been pulling and delightfully ran into her father's arms.  
"Papa!"  
So this was the girl the man had thought he'd kidnapped…wait…did that mean…no, she couldn't have been, but then, the child that had screamed in that house…he'd never known if she'd gotten out.

The Russian slowly released his daughter and straightened up to glare at George. Without his thick coat he looked even taller.  
"So…you bring her back…vy? I shot you!"  
George bit his lip to keep from shouting and began to back out "I told ya, I didn't have her!"  
The little girl, apparently Sofiya, tugged on her father's tunic and said something in her native tongue.  
"Whatever…" George muttered and turned to leave. He shouldn't have let her drag him there in the first place.  
"Vait!" The Russian stopped him "My daughter tells me you vere not respon…responsible. In fact that you vere the vun to save her."  
Now how could that girl have possibly known he was the one that killed her captor?  
"So what if I was?" He turned around.  
"I apologize… for the vound I gave you…it is surely that vich cause so much blood." He gestured at George's clothes.  
The wizard, thinking that he really did need to change his clothes, lifted his shirt, revealing the scar.  
"Wasn't that."  
"Stay!" The Russian boomed, reaching past George to pull the door closed. "I vish to make…how you say? Amends. A meal! You are thin."  
'If one more person points that out…' George inwardly scowled. Though he hadn't eaten since that fateful pie and he had very effectively emptied himself of that.  
He pushed George into a chair and moved over to the small stove where the remains of a stew sat warm.  
Sofiya stared at George from the other side of the table, her legs dangling off the floor.  
"I am Ivan." The big man said simply, laying a bowl of what looked like beef stew in front of George. "Now eat."  
George stared at him. Russians seemed to have the worst mood swings.  
"Eat." The man repeated, drawing up a chair and glancing at George's bag.  
"Vy you come to Russia?"  
George grunted and slowly lifted the spoon to his mouth. "I need to get to Moscow."  
"Valentin, kak!" Ivan called, making George yelp as he splashed the hot stew onto his hand.  
A little boy, perhaps five years old, appeared from another room, staring at the stranger sitting at the table.  
"Vy you come to Russia?" He repeated his question, turning back to George.  
George opened his mouth to give the same answer but was cut off as Ivan spoke again "I know vat you are."  
"What?" The Weasley frowned. He didn't mean that he knew he was a wizard?  
He gestured to the wizard's belt where his wand rested. "Several days ago. Ven you drew that vand." He leaned forward, beckoning his son to his side with his left hand. "You are a vizard are you not?"  
George blinked at him and almost gaped "H-How…"  
The Russian placed an arm around his young son "Valentin, my son. He is also a vizard. I, and my daughter, ve are squibs. My vife…vas a vitch."  
"So you know..."  
Ivan nodded slowly and then asked for the third time "Vy you come to Russia?"  
George hesitated. If this man really was a squib and his son really was a wizard…perhaps…  
"I need information." He said after several moments.  
"About…" Ivan frowned, waiting. He had come to almost like this boy…despite having shot him a few days previous.

The Weasley paused for a whole minute before eventually looking the Russian directly in the eye and saying two words.  
"Demetrius Dominió."

The reaction was one that George did not expect from the man.  
Ivan's eyes widened and his jaw dropped ever so slightly at the name. So…this was what the boy had come for…


	22. Knowledge

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Knowledge**

_You walk past me  
I can feel your pain  
Time changes everything  
One truth always stays the same  
You're still you  
After all  
You're still you  
__**You're Still You- Josh Groban**_

xxxXxxx

"Dominió?" Ivan muttered, his dark eyes seeming to bore right through George's skull.  
George, who for the few seconds until this point had been wishing he hadn't said anything, blinked in complete surprise.  
"You know of him?"  
The Russian nodded slowly "Yes…but vy vould you possibly vant to know about him?"  
George shook his head slowly. What were the chances? They had to be extremely slim surely. He'd have to tell this man. He'd have to tell him about the bottle…at least he was getting somewhere!  
"Look…" He bit his lip and leaned forward absentmindedly. "I'll explain it but that's not so important right now. Can you just tell me how to find him in Moscow?"  
Ivan shook his head "I am afraid that vill do you no good. For Dominió has not been in Moscow for many years to my knowledge."  
George dropped his forehead onto the wood of the table and groaned.  
"You've got to be joking…I'm here for no reason?"  
"Oi! Do you vant information or not?" Ivan glowered darkly at him.  
The young man slowly lifted his head, a red mark disappearing from his head where it had been pressed against the table. He said nothing, waiting almost patiently for the Russian to continue.  
He cleared his throat as though he were about to begin a great speech, and began.  
"Dominió has been in hiding since the days of the Dark vizard Grindelvald but, even amongst squibs, he remains…uhh…vell known. The very reason for his hiding is lost. Vhether he ridded himself of it or not, I do not know."  
George took advantage of this pause to withdraw his wand from his belt. He scooted his chair back a few inches and began to unstitch the lining of his coat, oblivious to the strange look directed at him.  
Removing the crystal bottle from its hiding place, he gently turned it over in his fingers before holding it out for Ivan to see, all the while keeping a firm grip on it.  
"Would this be the reason by any chance?"  
Understanding seemed to dawn on the man's face as he looked curiously at the object bearing turquoise liquid.  
"Vhere did you get this?"  
"My broth-I was given it…" George quickly amended but not in time to stop Ivan catching his words.  
"Your brother had this?" Ivan's eyes narrowed "Vell then he should be the vun here. Not you."  
George's face emptied of all emotion and he replied firmly "My brother is dead."  
The Russian's face seemed half pitying as he nodded in understanding. "I am sorry."  
George scoffed and ignored the comment. Pushing aside the bowl he planted his arms on the table and frowned at the man.  
"How did you know the one in possession of it should be here?"  
He did not receive a reply and Ivan instead continued, anticipating the next question.  
"I do not know vhat this potion is that Dominió created only that it is surely terrible in the hands of those who vould use it for evil. But I know that it is the very reason he is in hiding, that is, how you say? Common knowledge here."  
George decided not to point out the fact he had not received a reply to his question and instead asked another.  
"So what's he hiding from then?"  
Ivan tapped the crystal carefully "Those who vant this I can only guess."  
George sighed "Do you know where I can find him?"  
"Not exactly…I could only tell you the country ve think he is in. It vill do no good staying in Russia. Vhat is the point of staying in the country ven one goes into hiding?"  
"Well it's a start…" George muttered, mostly to himself.  
"Ve here strongly suspect that he has spent the most part of his years in Greece. But you vill not have luck in finding him. I hear that he goes to great lengths to divert intruders."  
George nodded slowly to himself. "Thank you…"  
The Weasley stood and returned the crystal bottle to its previous hiding place. Unable to decide if he felt better or worse than he had over the past few days, he slung his bag over his shoulder again and made to leave.  
"Thank you for your hospitality…"  
"Vhere are you going? You cannot leave now." The squib rose from his own seat as George turned around. "It is late, you must stay tonight."  
"Really, I'm fine." The twin raised an eyebrow.  
_Just stay, George.  
_'Why should I? I have a tent.'  
_Just stay, George._

Ivan frowned slightly as the young wizard seemed to completely zone out for several moments.  
"Are you vell?"  
George blinked back into consciousness "I'm fine…" he hesitated "Alright then. I suppose I ought to stay just the night."  
The Russian smiled slightly behind the thick beard "Good then!" he glanced out the window, the sky had almost completely set, leaving only a dull pinkish glow on the horizon  
"My children vill soon sleep. Tell me, boy, do you drink?"

xxxXxxx

"What's this called?" George eyed the clear liquid suspiciously as he swilled it around in the glass.  
"Vodka, boy!" Ivan chuckled and poured his own before placing the bottle on the floor at his feet.  
George sniffed it and blinked, that hadn't given any indication of strength at all. He could barely smell a thing, if he could smell anything at all. It being a Russian drink though, he did expect it was probably deceptively strong.  
"A toast." Ivan smirked, sitting down opposite George beside the fire and lifting his drink "To my daughter's safe return."  
George returned the gesture only half-heartedly and drank. He only barely managed to swallow it and spluttered horribly as it burned his tongue with a hot, bitter and incredibly strong taste.  
"Dear God…what is that?"  
Ivan downed his drink in one and laughed heartily at George's reaction.  
"That, boy, is the taste of straight vodka."  
"That's bloody awful! It almost tastes like potatoes."  
"Vell it ought to. Vodka is made from potatoes."  
George stared at Ivan in disgust. Alcohol made from potatoes? It would certainly get one drunk quickly, with a taste like that.  
"Bloody hell that's strong…" he muttered.  
Ivan chuckled again and poured himself more "Drink!" he motioned to the vodka still in George's glass.  
George eyed it, it had an awful taste but he hadn't had alcohol for what seemed like ages and even now he could feel the dull pain that was ever present beginning to ebb away temporarily. He hesitated for several seconds before raising the liquid to his lips and downing the rest of it.  
"Erk…" as soon as he recovered from the bitter sting he realised something "How do you know so much about Dominió?"  
Ivan's smile began to ebb away slowly and he lowered his glass onto his knee.  
"Vell as I said, he is very well known amongst us Russians. But you yourself must have some knowledge or you vould not know even his name."  
George shrugged, that was a fair point, how had Hagrid known about him?  
Taking the subject as dropped; Ivan poured more of the alcohol into George's glass, looking rather curious as he downed the vodka right away without hesitation this time, still cringing as he swallowed it.  
The Russian's eyes widened as he realised something he had forgotten to tell the boy.  
"Do not show anyvun that bottle again. Unless it is Dominió himself, if by some miracle you do find him."  
George tilted his head to the side as though trying to work out what he had said and then nodded slowly. That probably was wise.  
He raised his refilled glass to his lips again but before he drank he remembered the letter, not caring that Ivan was still in the room he drew Bill's letter out from his coat again and re read it. Somehow, and he supposed it was foolish, it seemed to have a rather different effect in the light of the fire. Or perhaps that was just the vodka affecting him.  
"Vord from home?"  
George glanced up to see the Russian observing him and nodded. "My brother."  
"You said your brother vas dead." A bemused look spread over Ivan's bearded face.  
George glared at him "Another brother obviously."  
He supposed he really ought to reply, but how was he to get it to Bill? He had sent Hermes away. Of course he could simply Apparate, pray no one was there and slip his reply under the door. George groaned inwardly, he would have to do that.  
He didn't care Ivan was watching him, he wanted to get this over with, he thought, reaching into the satchel and fumbling around for a quill and ink.  
He glanced up, suddenly away he could not find his parchment. "Say…you don't have parchment do you?"  
Without a word, Ivan lay aside his drink and went over to the nearby desk, withdrawing from a drawer a sheet of parchment.  
"You vish to reply now?"  
George only nodded a thank you, accepting the parchment and spreading it out on his knees, setting the ink down on the arm of his chair.  
The bigger man sighed and continued to speak…and drink…  
"So, vhere is it you found my Sofiya?"  
George grunted and downed his own drink, in no way becoming accustomed to the horrible taste.  
"Long story. Why don't you just ask her?"  
"Because she says that she does not know how you did it."  
Unable to think of anything to write, George sighed "Did what?"  
"Saved her, fool!"  
The wizard accepted still more vodka, vaguely aware of how red the Russian's face was becoming, no doubt an effect of the amount of alcohol he was consuming.  
"I really don't wanna talk about it, alright. I've had enough talking for one day." He grumbled and all the same looked back at Ivan and his eyes hardened.  
"But if you really wanna know, I'll tell ya why I'm covered in blood. Same thing took me that took your daughter." He shrugged off his coat and pulled his shirt down over one shoulder. Revealing the skin covered, but no less gruesome, wound. "And she tried to eat me."  
With that he grumbled and swallowed the vodka, vowing not to have any more ever in his life and already regretting the headache he was sure to have in the morning.  
Ivan said nothing and slumped back in his chair for a moment before suddenly staggering rather unsteadily to his feet.  
"Sleep vell, and may your journey not kill you." He grunted, pointing to the pile of blankets and the pillow on the edge of the rather old sofa. With that he staggered from the room, taking the bottle of vodka with him

xxxXxxx

_Bill,_

_Yeah, I'm alive. But I'm not telling you where I am so put that out of your mind. _

_I suppose I appreciate your concern but Percy's almost right. I did lose the will to live and I might as well be honest cause I'd be lying if I said that I didn't wish I was dead sometimes. But I damn well didn't run away to kill myself._

_No I ruddy well didn't try to kill myself in the shop, if I were going to kill myself I wouldn't do it in a place like that, it would put a bit of a damper on business wouldn't it?_

George re read the sentence, a pathetic attempt at humour that was. As if Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would still operate if both twins weren't around.

_Honestly, Bill, I don't what I've 'run off after' is worth anything. But it keeps me alive doesn't it?  
Thanks though. You're the only person who hasn't tried to erase Fred from my memory, that's what hurts the most so you can tell em to bloody well stop it. I know they do it behind my back._

_I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to anyone about this letter. Or your letter. _

_Don't expect me to come back anytime soon because I won't be._

_George._

George lay down the quill and re read the letter once before rolling it up and sealing it with a tap of his wand.  
Already wishing that he did not have to Apparate back to England just to deliver a letter, George returned his belongings to his bag and slipped his coat back on.  
Something caught his eye on the mantle and he did a double take, was that a pot of what he suspected it was? Floo powder?  
He stepped over and peered into the pot, yes it was! He bit his lip, would he be able to deliver a letter by Floo Powder?

He shrugged, it was worth a shot. Taking a pinch of the silvery, grainy powder. George tossed it into the flame, rendering them harmless and turning them emerald green. He dropped the rolled up parchment into the flames and stuck his head in, crying loudly "Shell Cottage!" before pulling his head back quickly, only half expecting it to work.  
In a moment though the letter had disappeared and the flames changed back to their previous orange.

xxxXxxx


	23. Silence

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Silence**

_I know you,  
I've seen you in a dream,  
An old familiar scene, from somewhere…_

_You know me,  
There's a glowing in your eyes,  
A glow I recognize, from somewhere….  
__**Those Voices- A Very Potter Sequel**_

_**xxxXxxx  
**_

So sorry about the delay guys! But school's just started up again and I've been getting into the hang of a new timetable and new classes and homework and such like. Thanks for being so patient! I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! :D

xxxXxxx

William Weasley's eyes snapped open as the morning sun washed over his face. He glanced down, moderately surprised to find himself on the couch in the living room.  
"Bill?" Fleur's voice made him look up to find her looking at him curiously. "'ave you slept 'ere all night?"  
Bill pulled himself into a sitting position, pushing his long hair behind his ears "Guess so…" his neck ached from the odd position it had been propped up against a cushion in.  
"You 'aven't slept properly for several days, William…" She gently kissed her husband's hair "I will get your breakfast."  
Bill sighed and rubbed his face, glancing blearily around the room. His eyes caught on the fireplace and he frowned, hoisting himself off the couch he crossed the four feet to the fire and bent down.  
On top of the ashes lay what looked to be a rolled up piece of parchment.  
Bill picked it up slowly, that was exactly what it was…it must have somehow been thrown there. Either that or someone had sent it by Floo.  
"What eez zat?"  
Fleur had reappeared, flicking her wand and sending the tray of breakfast onto the table in the centre of the room.  
"I don't know…" Bill replied, sitting back down on the couch and running his fingers over the parchment to unseal it.

xxxXxxx

"Percy!" Bill called out, appearing with a _pop_ into the kitchen of the Burrow, making Ron choke on his sausages.  
"Bloody hell! Why'd you have to do that?"  
Bill ignored him as Percy stuck his head around the doorframe. Relief washing over him that his younger brother had not yet left for the Ministry.  
"A word?" He asked, pulling Percy into the living room.

"What is it?" Percy frowned, pushing his glasses further up his nose.  
The older man sighed, debating how much to tell Percy, eventually he decided on a lie and held out the resealed parchment.  
"I found this in my fireplace this morning…I'm guessing it was sent by Floo…"  
Percy raised an eyebrow "What of it?"  
Bill hesitated "I need you to find out where it came from…"  
"That's not my Department, you know that I'm-" He began pompously.  
Bill cut him off "I know, Percy. But I need you to find out, you're in the Minister's office."  
Percy eyed the parchment suspiciously "What it is?"  
"I don't know…" He pulled it away as Percy made to grab it.  
"Who is it from?"  
"I don't know, Percy!" Bill growled, trying not to give it away.  
"Let me at least see what it is-" Percy snatched at it again but his brother kept pulling it away.  
"Goodness me, what are you two doing?" Molly appeared and frowned at them. "You look like children."  
They stopped at their mother's look but as soon as she disappeared they resumed the childish antics until Bill, grabbed the front of Percy's robe uncharacteristically and hissed.  
"Just do it."  
With that he Disapparated, leaving Percy rather bemused. He shook his head slowly and sighed. He would have to do it, he would simply have to.

xxxXxxx

"_You're sure?" George asked for the third time as his mother tucked him beneath the blankets.  
She sighed and kissed his forehead "Yes, Georgie, I promise there are no monsters."  
As soon as the light was extinguished and Molly left the room, the younger twin pushed off his covers and climbed in beside his brother in Fred's bed. They had taken to doing this almost every night now, firmly believing there were monsters under the bed and too scared to sleep alone.  
"I don't think Mummy looks anymore…" Fred pouted, slightly nervously.  
George nodded; he was unusually tired that night and could already feel himself beginning to doze off. He guessed Fred probably was too._

_Both twins snapped their eyes open in unison as a loud noise, that sounded somewhat like a growl, sounded from beneath the bed.  
Fred's eyes widened and he burrowed a little further under the blankets "D-Did you hear that?"  
George wanted to shake his head and say he didn't but he nodded slowly, his blue eyes just as wide as Fred's.  
There it was again and the twins instinctively snuggled closer together, whimpering a little.  
"Fwed…I'm scawed…"  
Fred sniffled, letting his brother know that he was just as scared._

_Not a minute later George yelped and pulled his legs up toward his chest, opening his mouth to warn Fred that there was something in the bed. Before he could however, Fred screamed as a hand clamped around his ankle and then disappeared from the bed quickly.  
As one both twins climbed…or rather fell from the bed onto the floorboards and scrambled to their feet, ran to the slightly open door and pulled it open._

_Eleven year old Bill jolted awake with a grunt and he almost yelled as two lumps landed on his bed, refraining from doing so as he recognized the quivering shapes.  
He groaned and tried to push his brothers off the bed without sitting up. It did not work and he eventually sat up as either Fred or George wriggled under the blankets.  
"What are you doin?"  
"Mummy was wong!" The muffled voice of one of the twins sounded from under the blankets while the other scrambled onto Bill's bed.  
"M-Monster…under my bed!"  
The oldest Weasley groaned and rolled over to face the wall "There's no monster, go to bed."  
"It gwabbed my foot." Fred whined, pulling Bill's shoulder. "Pwease?"  
Being as it was the only way he would get the twins out, William pushed George out from the blankets and, scowling at Fred, climbed out of the bed. Being eleven was hard sometimes, he would be starting school this year and therefore was supposed to be very grown up.  
Quietly, so as not to alert their parents downstairs, Bill made his way to the room Fred and George shared both keeping close to their brother like he was a shield.  
Bill glared at them again but grudgingly knelt down on his knees and peered under first George and then Fred's bed.  
"Ah ha…" The eleven year old sighed, reaching under the bed. A sudden idea struck him and, purely to get back at them for waking him, cried out in alarm and jerked as though something was pulling his arm.  
His little brothers both screamed and clutched each other, terrified there really was a monster trying to eat their big brother.  
"Alright, alright!" Bill hissed, shushing them but grinning all the while as he withdrew his arm, something clutched in his hand.  
George kicked his brother as he got to his feet, both he and Fred almost in tears. "Not funny!"  
Bill stuck his tongue out and gestured for them to follow him as he left the room and started up the stairs to the third floor. Stopping outside of Charlie's room, he pressed a finger to his lips and pushed the door open, mercifully it was one of the few that did not creak.  
He pointed at the lump under the covers that was their brother and held out the slipper in his hand "That's your monster."  
Fred exchanged a glance with his twin and then looked back at Bill "Sure?"  
The eldest didn't reply but tiptoed over to the bed so as not to alert his undoubtedly fake sleeping brother to his presence.  
Raising the slipper, almost eagerly, Bill brought it down on the mop of red resting on the pillow.  
"Funny joke, Charlie!" He hissed as the figure leapt up, holding his head and glaring furiously at his brother.  
"That's not fair!" He whined "I didn't do anything to you."  
Acting the part of the eldest child in an attempt to be grown up to the sibling closest in age, Bill looked back to the twins who were both glaring at their brother in bed.  
"They're three! They really believed you were trying to kill them."  
Charlie grinned "Well that's kind of the point, Bill."  
Next thing he knew, two identical shapes had landed on him, thinking it very mean of their big brother.  
"What is going on?" Molly suddenly appeared in the door, wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown, wild eyed at the sight of her sons.  
The twins clambered off the bed at once and ran over to their mother, Fred sticking his tongue out at Charlie.  
"Nevermind…." She sighed and pushed her oldest from the room "Back to bed at once, William, Fred, George…and you…" She glared at Charlie "Can explain everything in the morning."  
Without another word she grabbed the twins by the hands and tugged them down to the second floor to their room.  
"That was very naughty of you boys to be up at this time!" She scolded. "And waking your brothers up too!"  
George's lip trembled but he didn't want to tell his Mummy the reason they were up. "Sowwy…."  
"My fawlt…" Fred murmured, looking at the floor, his expression identical to his twin's.  
Molly looked at him for a moment and opened her mouth to scold him when both twins yawned widely in unison. Her expression softened, perhaps they had only had nightmares.  
"Well…back into bed right now." She shooed, making sure they were under their blankets in their respective beds before pulling the door closed most of the way._

_Not a moment later, Fred crept over into George's bed. Partly because he still wasn't entirely convinced that it had only been Charlie hiding under his bed.  
To his surprise, however, George kicked him lightly.  
"It wasn't your fawlt."  
"I don't want you to be in twouble, Geowge." Fred replied quietly, curling his legs up.  
The younger twin moved over to make more room and curled up, shaking his head.  
"Always together, Fwed."_

xxxXxxx

"Bill? You 'ave been distant since you came 'ome…"  
Fleur's husband tucked away the letter he had read and re read several times and got up from the desk to kiss her reassuringly "I'm fine."  
"If you are sure…" she frowned in concern and looked at the parchment on the desk. "Why will you not tell me what zat is?"  
"Because…I…" Bill hesitated "I just can't, Fleur…"  
She opened her mouth to object but was cut off by a sudden knock on the door. A moment later Percy had admitted himself entrance and strode through the door into the small living room.  
"I got it." He said, nodding a hello to his sister-in-law and handing a slip of parchment to Bill. "It came from Russia."  
"Russia?" Bill blinked, completely taken aback.  
Percy looked rather suspiciously at him "Yes, oddly enough. Bill, what is going on?"  
"What do you mean?" Fleur frowned, rather puzzle, looking between her husband and his younger brother.  
"You must know what that letter is by now."  
"Leave it alone, Perce. Please." He insisted, turning away to stare into the fire.  
"Bill, 'e eez right to be concerned." Fleur turned to Percy "'E 'as been distant since 'e came 'ome."  
"I bet I know what it is." Percival pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and gestured to the parchment in his brother's hand. "This is about George isn't it."  
It was not a question but a statement and the result was instantaneous. Fleur gasped and turned to her husband, one slender hand over her mouth. Bill stiffened visibly but did not turn around, how could he admit the truth to his brother? He'd promised George he would say nothing to their family.  
"What makes you think that?"  
"That proves it, Bill!" Percy hissed, pulling his brother's shoulder to face him "What do you know?"  
"Nothing." Bill stubbornly replied, glaring at Percy "I don't know anything about him."  
"Like hell!" The usually pompous and proud wizard yelled, his eyes holding a mixture of worry, anger and pleading. "You've been acting strange. That letter is from George and you're holding out on us!"  
Bill just glared at him and didn't say anything.  
"Bill, please…" Percy pleaded, his voice quieter now "Just tell me why you've be holding out on your family about our brother."  
"Even if this was from George…" He began slowly "Which I don't know why you think it would be because he obviously doesn't want us to know where he is, but hypothetically if it was from him…I…I couldn't tell you."  
"And why…'hypothetically' couldn't you?" Percy insisted, stepping closer and glaring at his oldest brother.  
"Because I keep my word." Bill growled and stowed away the parchment with the location from which George's reply had been sent. "Now nose out, Percy! Oh, and I really think everyone needs to stop trying to erase Fred from George's memory. If you ask me, its kinda disrespectful."

Percy looked rather taken aback at William's words and backed up. "Alright then…but by not telling us what you know about George, you're only causing this family more pain."  
With that he turned on his heel and left the cottage, swinging the door but catching it just before it closed long enough to say "And by the way, you do realise that I know where he is now?"

The married couple stood staring at the door for several moments as Percy left.  
Fleur turned slowly to her husband, one hand on her belly. "Bill…what eez going on?"  
Bill didn't reply at once and gently ran a hand over her cheek. He really wanted to tell his wife, to assure her that everything was alright. But was it? The obvious answer was of course not, it hadn't been for weeks.  
He knew Percy may be right, that if his family knew he was communicating with the fugitive twin, it would only hurt them more that he wasn't saying anything on it. But Bill Weasley kept his promises, and he respected his brother's desire to virtually disappear…even if he had admitted to wishing he were dead sometimes.  
"I honestly don't know, hon." He finally replied, fondly rubbing her stomach.  
Fleur didn't look very satisfied with this answer but did not pursue the matter and settled herself down on the couch.  
Bill looked down at the parchment Percy had given him. Russia? What the hell was George doing in Russia?


	24. Greece

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Greece**

xxxXxxx  
**Heeeeeeerrrrrreeeee it is! Chapter Twenty Four! :D Sorry about the wait you lovely, beautiful, loyal people! Homework sucks….but it's here now so enjoy :D**

xxxXxxx

Well….at least it wasn't another forest…George reasoned as he examined his surroundings, gaining his bearings.  
He had Apparated into what was possibly the most beautiful and lush countryside he would lay eyes on. Standing on a stony road lightly dusted with snow, on one side and looking down George could see the flowing waters of a river approximately twenty feet down. To his right, a steep, sloping expanse of rock and trees undoubtedly once swathed in a vibrant green that now stood bare, flecks of snow littering the branches. The lack of colour did little to decrease the foreignness of the scene, something George noticed. Relieved that it was not nearly as cold as Russia had been, George loosened the cloak about his shoulders, grateful that he at last had a path to follow that must surely lead to somewhere.

He had now realised his mistake of sending his letter by Floo. Bill could simply have it traced and may even now be appearing in Ivan's fireplace in Russia. What a sight that would have been, the Weasley could not help but wonder, a man suddenly appearing in the Russian's fire demanding that he give him news of his brother. No. Bill wouldn't do that. He shook his head, not if he was keeping his word.  
Come to think of it, it was not his only mistake. George groaned, holding a hand to his head. Strange that it had taken this long for the liquor to hit him, but hitting him it was, and viciously.

He began to walk as best as he was able with the newly emerging migraine, the snow crunching beneath his steps as he followed the path. Suddenly it occurred to him that, if he were to find a town, it would obviously be a Muggle town. Quite likely with a heck of a lot he was unfamiliar with, despite his father's Muggle fascination.  
_Out of your depth aren't you, George?  
_George felt the familiar, pang of pain he always felt when his twin spoke again and he resigned himself.  
'Help me with this, Fred…'

xxxXxxx

Percy was tense, unusually so, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in his office, eyeing the small box on the mantelpiece every few seconds. He really didn't know anymore. He was so sure that Bill's letter was from George and wanted so badly to know more. Bill was hiding news from their AWOL brother and Percy thought that was unacceptable. It was better if the family knew, he reasoned, at least if George was alright it would put their mother's worrying mind somewhat at ease.  
But now that it came to it, Percy had the information, he knew where to go. But he just couldn't seem to bring himself take a pinch of the silvery powder.  
"Damn it, Bill!" He roared suddenly. It was his oldest brother's fault. He'd made him feel guilty now, like he, Percy, would be betraying an unspoken trust.  
With that he slumped back into his chair and rested his head on the table. What was happening to their family? George was unknowingly tearing this family apart, only widening the hole that Fred's death had left.

At that moment the door opened and Percy lifted his head. Flushing as red as his hair as a sheet of parchment dropped from his forehead onto the desk as the Minister for Magic entered.  
"It's not like you to sleep on the job, Percival…" Kingsley's deep voice sounded extremely amused.  
Percy, blushing furiously, got to his feet and cleared his throat. "I-I wasn't sleeping, Minister."  
He merely raised an eyebrow in reply and motioned for the Weasley to follow him.  
As he did so, Percy glanced once more at the Floo Powder and inwardly sighed. George…

xxxXxxx

George doubled over, staggering over to the rocky incline and using it to support his weight as he heaved dryly. Never. Again. Never ever again. He groaned, vastly regretting the amount of vodka he had consumed as his body rejected it.

Thinking it safe to stagger another few metres, George did so and promptly slumped against a tree and emptied his stomach yet again. Almost instantaneously he was violently pushed away from the tree with a noise that gave the illusion the tree was angry with him.

Wiping his mouth, the wizard stared at the tree, it almost sounded like it had spoken. But that wasn't possible. George's eyebrows went further up his forehead and he lifted a hand as he could have sworn he caught a brief glimpse of the trunk moving. He staggered back onto the path and shook his head, attributing it to his migraine.

After that he could not relax, between fits of nausea and the constant sense of being watched, he had barely gone one hundred metres before the voices started.  
In the same manner as a breeze through leaves, a noticeably feminine voice reached George's ear.  
"You seek one who wishes not be found…"  
George froze mid-step and glanced around wildly for the source of the voice, but there seemed to be no one.  
"What the heck?" He muttered quietly.  
A slightly lighter voice edged with a slightly thicker Greek accent, closer this time, replied.  
"Look no further than that nearest you."  
One eyebrow raised George slowly let his eyes scan around him, it was common knowledge among wizarding folk that Greece was a country rich with magical beings and lore. The bare branches of the trees rustled slightly and he blinked.  
"You're in the trees?"

The branches rustled again, conveying the impression of laughter and George had to blink to be sure he was seeing what he was seeing as one of the trunks seemed to twist and distort. His migraine throbbed more painfully but he took several steps toward the tree. Dryads? Was that what they were called? He was pretty sure he had read about them somewhere or perhaps in some lesson back in his school days.  
The trunk had indeed distorted until out of it a woman seemed to glide. But merely a moment later only a face was visible, appearing almost merged with the trunk but no less fair. The branches rustled again in what George supposed was laughter and the tree spirit opened her mouth and began to speak

"_Be wary of one for whose loss you rue,  
And a way fraught with peril to guide you…  
The one ye seek shall not be found  
Until evil around you may abound."_

With that she appeared to melt back into the tree, leaving George gaping rather ungracefully.  
"What the hell was that?"  
"Tis our duty only to forewarn…" A second voice replied coming from somewhere to George's left.  
"And now we must say no more."  
With that the bare branches of the trees rustled in unison and fell silent. He stood staring for moments, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. Yes, Dryads did exist apparently but then again…George held a hand to his head, he had a hell of a hangover.  
It took him several minutes before he became alert enough to walk again, his face pale as he tried to make sense of what the tree spirits had rhymed.

Only a short while later George paused again, the nausea seemed to have died down now and as he halted in the middle of the road, the wizard thought he heard to sound of hoofs trotting along the dusty, snow blanketed ground.  
Shortly thereafter, a quiet singing joined the silence and due to his inability to understand the song, it was clear it was in Greek. Odd that….

Only a moment later a cart rounded the corner, pulled by a mule and driven by a Greek man who looked barely older than George himself. George simply stood there in the middle of the road, staring at him. Great…muggles, just what he needed.  
The cart pulled to a stop and the man blinked in surprise, tugging his peaked cap up a little, revealing  
a mop of curly dark hair "Poios eísai esý?"  
George just blinked at him and shook his head silently.  
"You are English?" The Grecian asked uncertainly and George nodded. He smiled "Tourístas."  
He scooted over on the cart "Where are you going?"  
George shook his head again "I don't know honestly."  
"You are new. I will take you to my home. Mama will feed you well." The boy said, gesturing for George to climb onto the cart.  
The wizard did not move "Who are you?"  
"Should it not be myself asking you?" The other man smiled "My name is Alex, I am from Konitsa. It is not far from here. Please, you have place to stay?"  
Slowly, almost hesitantly, George shook his head, it was only the morning after all.  
'Alex' however beamed "We Greeks are hos…hospi-how you say?"  
"Hospitable."  
"Yes, hospital…" Alex beamed, apparently convinced he had said it correctly "Mama will insist you stay with my family."

George still only stared up blankly, unable to decide whether or not to join the lad. Slowly, eventually he decided to slowly climb up beside him though the reason why he did so somewhat escaped his mind. Alex looked positively delighted at this and promptly began to speak rapidly in somewhat broken English.  
"It is nice to have companion this time, I get almost lonely sometimes. Your name?" He beamed, looking about ten years old as he did so.  
George blinked at him for several seconds before replying with "…Fred."  
Immediately he felt like he'd been shot all over again, the pain that came with using his deceased twin's name was far from bearable.

Alex blinked at him and for a moment George thought he could see right through the brief hesitation before George had replied and plainly read the pain in his eyes. He was sure he could see that George was lying, or at least, George thought he would be able to see through his own lie had their positions been reversed.  
The Grecian smiled suddenly "Fred. Have you brothers? Or perhaps sisters?" He flicked the reins, urging the mule forward. The rather old cart gave a lurch as the animal began its steady pace.  
George looked at Alex "Why the questions?"  
Alex looked confused for a moment before clueing in and shrugging "Curious…I have one brother and one sister myself."  
George grunted "Fine. I have one sister and five brothers. It's all I'm saying."  
The Grecian blinked "Five. That is many brothers."

They continued on in this manner for longer than George would have liked, Alex chatting animatedly occasionally asking the Englishman if he was pronouncing words right, and George staring morosely at the mule's back, trying to ignore the constant chatter.

xxxXxxx

Percy stepped out of the fireplace, not bothering to brush the soot from his clothing and immediately casting a critical look at his surroundings. Truth be told he almost felt like he were betraying George but it could not be helped. Percival caught sight of the pile of loose blankets on the end of couch and knew immediately he was too late. Despite himself, he found himself searching the room, wand in hand, for signs that George had definitely been here.  
"Who are you?"  
The Ministry wizard turned around quickly to meet the shocked face of a giant of a man.  
"Where is he?" He asked, without hesitating for a moment.  
The Russian's eyes narrowed "Who are you?" His eyes flickered to the wand in the younger man's hand and then to his fiery hair and freckles.  
Percy pushed aside the question again "Where is my brother? He was here I'm sure of it…about so tall…" he held up a hand, approximately six foot.  
The Russian glare at him, his suspicions had been confirmed, this was that boy's brother it had to be, but what the heck was he doing in Ivan's home?  
"I don't know vhat you mean now get out ov my home at vunce!"  
"Not until you tell me where my brother has gone." Percy said adamantly, taking a step back nevertheless as the Russian loomed closer threateningly.

Ivan opened his mouth to bellow when an explosion of green erupted in his fireplace once more and out stepped another man with the same blue eyes, bright red hair and freckles as the first.  
"Vhat is this?"  
Bill stared at the scene open mouthed, ducking out of the fireplace. "Perce? What the hell are you doing?"  
Percival withdrew his gaze from the giant for a second to glare at his elder brother "For the very same reason you are, William. This gentleman-" he gestured to the looming Russian "Will not tell me where George went."  
"This is my home! I vant you out right now!" Ivan was still rather bemused at the appearance of clearly a second brother.  
Both Bill and Percy had their wands pointed at the Russian as Bill replied, calmly "Please. He is our brother."  
A cruel sneer suddenly spread behind Ivan's massive beard. "He is beyond your help by now. I vill not tell you."  
Percy's wand lowered slightly but Bill's stayed pointed at its target "Why not?"  
"He does not vish to be found I am sure." Was all that the Russian said before reaching for his shotgun leaning against the wall.  
Bill Weasley's eyes displayed more emotion than he cared to admit as he slowly lowered his wand, grabbed Percy's wrist and forcefully Apparated them both into his own home.

xxxXxxx

"That's enough, Percy." He sighed as the younger Weasley glared stonily at his brother. "Enough meddling!"  
"That is some nerve you have, Bill!" Percy sniffed "It was not only me who travelled to Russia after all!"  
"I know! But that's as far as I'll go, and I don't want you to go further either. There is a reason he didn't tell anyone he was leaving!"

Percy's jaw dropped uncharacteristically and for a minute he was no longer Pompous Prat Percival Weasley.  
"God, William! You really don't give a rat's arse about this family do you?" And on that note, angry tears stinging his eyes, he turned on his heel and Disapparated.  
Bill stared at the spot Percy had stood and collapsed backwards toward the armchair, missing it by inches and crashing onto the floorboards, burying his face in his hands and shaking his head slowly.  
_God, George…you're proving to be a right pain in the arse._ That was what he wished he could feel, alas though, Bill could not. The only thought running through his head was;  
'Help me with this, Fred.'

xxxXxxx


	25. Leave

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**Leave**

_You know you're the only one I need  
I can't do this without you can't you see?  
You know you're the only one  
Don't leave, Don't leave_

_And I know it's been  
Such a long time since we've just been friends  
And not soldiers on a front line of the war  
That we were born into but we have to do this together  
__**Don't Leave- Ministry of Magic**_

xxxXxxx

George both regretted and was relieved about his decision to join the Grecian. If it was taking this long by cart he would be doomed walking and one cannot Apparate if one does not know where to Apparate to after all. But still, was it really worth having his remaining ear talked off by this kid? He supposed he was hardly a kid, he had mentioned he was twenty but from the animatedness with which he spoke if was difficult to believe.  
It must have been past noon by now and they had stopped many times for George to vomit, clearly vodka had a lasting effect and he could really only imagine how bloodshot his eyes must be.  
What had happened to 'Fred's' ear had cropped up at some point in the very one sided conversation. To which George had creatively replied "Accident."

Thankfully by now Alex's incessant chatter had died down some and it was only a few minutes of blissful silence except for the occasionally snorting of the mule, before they rounded a corner that brought into their sight, civilisation.  
"My home, Konitsa." Alex beamed, urging the mule faster onto a gentle decline.  
It was another ten minutes, mostly downhill, until they drew into the outskirts of the town. The wizard was already beginning to get uncomfortable, thoroughly wishing he could just disappear.

It was very much a foreign place; the buildings were predominantly stone and, from what George could see, all seemed to be white or pale colours with the same tiled roofs, either a pale orange or black.  
Modes of transportation, from carts to motorcycles to cars, were assorted at random intervals in the streets. Several people, dressed in anything from what George gathered to be traditional Greek clothing to jeans and T-shirts, were going about their business. And then there were the likes of which George had never seen before. One girl was holding a hand to her ear, appearing to be speaking into nothing. George did a double take at this, earning a very odd look from Alex. He decided not to reveal his ignorance of muggle life and sat quietly…and uncomfortably.

Thinking that perhaps the reason for Fred's strange behaviour was merely the fact that he was in a foreign country and therefore was unfamiliar with the Greek way of life, Alex shrugged it off, though surely they had cell phones in…wherever he was from, England he thought, from his accent.  
"My mother does not speak English." He said, forewarning his companion as he pulled the mule to a halt in front of a comfortable looking cottage-like house. Like most of the others, the walls were painted a crisp white though, also like many of the others, it had its own uniqueness about it.  
"Greeat." The Englishman sighed, unsure what he was supposed to do, and why the hell he was there. How was he supposed to find Dominío when some 'hospital' Greek fellow insisted he stay with his family?  
"Álex, eísai spíti!"  
The Grecian jumped to the ground and turned, George raised an eyebrow as a girl, perhaps sixteen, came running from the house. George tilted his head, she looked vaguely familiar. But how was it possible that he could have seen her before? It was obviously Alex's sister.  
After a quick exchange in Greek, Alex motioned for George to get down, an act that he did slowly.  
"This is my young sister Irene."  
The girl stared at him then turned to speak in Greek to her brother, probably asking who this strange one-eared man sitting in their cart was and George was pretty sure he had heard 'Fred' somewhere in Alex's reply.

"Look…" he said firmly, trying to ignore the somewhat suspicious expression on the girls' face "I really can't stay."  
That got the Greeks' attention immediately and Alex opened his mouth to speak just as George cut him off.  
"No really. I can't. Thanks and all but I can't." And simply with that, George turned on his left heel and Disapparated, not caring about the presence of Muggles and all that that hardly seemed necessary now.

As the Englishman quite literally disappeared the siblings exchanged a glance. Each pairs of eyes staring rather knowingly and blankly into the other with a thorough lack of shock. He was obviously the one.

xxxXxxx

Having no other place to go, George found himself back in the same place he had begun initially. Of course that had been his intention. The best bet was simply to hope and pray he was somewhere near where he needed to be.  
This time heading the opposite way, the Weasley plastered on his now default impassive expression and tried not to feel completely hopeless. At least he didn't have to hear Fred's name used as his own now. He couldn't help but inwardly pine for his twin to speak again; he spoke so little to him.  
_It's not healthy for me to speak to you._  
'But why not?'  
_You heard that…prophecy thingo. She meant me.  
_'I don't give a damn about that!'  
_I do! You were just starting to seem better…_  
'Better? You call this stupid, bitter, grieving existence better?'  
_And therein lies why I should not be speaking to you._  
Fred sounded extremely sarcastic and George couldn't help but despise his brother for the moment. How could he consider leaving him….AGAIN!  
'That's all you bloody seem to do!'  
_So, what then? Do you want me gone or not?_  
George didn't reply. Of course he didn't. He wanted his twin with him, properly; he wanted to be whole again he wanted to be funny and cheerful again. He wanted to not be stared at and whispered about like a freak show.  
Fred knew all this; he must have known it…

_xxxXxxx_

"_How's the ear, Lugless?" Fred smirked, barely looking up from the mountain of paperwork littering the kitchen table; it wasn't that it was recent, certainly not. In fact it was months late and what with the severe lack in business due to Death Eaters and the like roaming Diagon Alley, Fred thought, and he would never understand why, he would catch up on the paperwork.  
George glared playfully at the back of his twin's head and continued to press the damp cloth to the place an ear had once been. The coolness soothed the pain, made it more bearable when it stung like hell.  
"Fine, doesn't hurt as much anymore." He lied easily.  
"Liar." The elder twin smirked and dropped his head onto the wood of the table "This is bloody hell. Now I really know why we leave it this long."  
"You chose to do-oh hell no. I'm not doing it!" George pushed the parchment that Fred had just pushed to him away and leant back on the rear legs of a chair, slinging his feet onto the table. Sometimes he wondered if they weren't taking these times too lightly. It surely wouldn't be too long before the Death Eaters were after muggle-borns and 'blood traitors' and the Weasleys were the top of that list._

_He blinked suddenly as Fred voiced his thoughts.  
"You ever wonder if we're taking this too lightly?"  
George nodded "Just thinking about that actually."  
"I mean…" Fred laid aside his quill and rested his head in his palm "I assure you Ron, Harry and Hermione aren't having much fun."  
"They better be alright…" Much as they teased their little brother, they obviously would rather he didn't die.  
_

_George winced and pressed the cloth to his head again as a particularly painful throb resounded in his head.  
"You're not alright." Fred glared at him "I really wish you'd stop saying you were."  
"Fred, m'fine." He insisted.  
"Seriously, I'm your twin; you know you can't lie to me."  
George sighed and averted his cerulean eyes from the identical ones of his brother "Well, hardly anymore."  
Fred gaped, sure he had misheard his twin "Say what?"  
"We're hardly twins anymore." George clarified "Particularly not identical."  
Those words and the nonchalant manner in which George had said them echoed repeatedly in Fred's head.  
"How can you say that?" He gaped, thoroughly hurt.  
_

_George blinked at him, he had not expected Fred to react like that.  
"Mate, you sound like a girl…and it's true isn't it? Lost me ear to Snape didn't I? You didn't."  
"So what? I wanted to cut my own ear off and you wouldn't let me! You're saying that because we don't look the same we're not twins anymore?"  
"I said we're HARDLY twins anymore!" George defended.  
"WE STILL LOOK THE SAME! YOU'RE JUST LOPSIDED!"  
George gaped rather ungracefully "What the hell?" Fred had never gotten so angry before.  
The elder 'twin' was far more upset than he was angry, he loved being a twin and he wouldn't have traded it for anything, anything at all and so for George to say that weren't twins anymore…to say it hurt would have been a drastic understatement.  
"Don't blow it out of proportion! Obviously we're-" George cut himself off, feeling sudden sadistic pleasure. His brother wasn't going to listen so he wouldn't even try. "You know what? I don't care! We don't look alike and the way you're carrying on like a ten year old girl, we don't act alike!"  
Fred's wouldn't look at George, it was as though he couldn't even see he was really hurting his brother.  
"Shut up, George."  
The one-eared Weasley blinked and stopped his rant momentarily. "What?"  
"I said shut up, George!" Fred said louder, one hand clenching the wood of the table fiercely, trying his hardest not to tear a chunk out of it.  
"I'll shut up if I damn well want to, Fred!" George didn't really know why he was still yelling but he didn't feel like calming down.  
"George, I love having a twin, I love being a twin!" The brothers stood in unison, Fred's hand knocking over the open bottle of ink but, like the paperwork, it went unnoticed. "So don't you dare say we're not twins!"  
The younger scoffed "Well guess what I just did. And right now, Fred? You're really pissing me off!" He didn't know what possessed him to say the words that next slipped from his lips "Maybe you should just go!"  
Fred froze, surely he must have heard wrong. George would never have said that. "You-You want me to leave?" He muttered, far quieter than he intended.  
Without thinking George nodded "Yeah, yeah I do."_

_Fred had never been one for outwardly displaying his sadness but he averted his eyes from those of George and nodded "Fine, then."  
With that he turned and headed slowly into the bedroom "I'll be out soon as I can." He muttered quietly, trying not to let the tears stinging his eyes fall._

_xxxXxxx_

"_Just talk to him, Georgie." Molly pleaded even as George turned his back.  
"I don't want to."  
"Fred's so forlorn at home. He looks so upset without you. Don't you get lonely here by yourself?"  
George grunted and didn't answer; he had swept through a whole range of emotions over the last few days of living in the flat alone anything from anger, to, yes loneliness, he missed Fred. Part of him still couldn't believe that Fred had actually moved out because he thought that's what George wanted, which at the time had been true.  
"He was the one who took it literally."  
His mother whacked him sharply about his head "George! Our family needs, and I mean needs, to stay together. If we are being realistic the Death Eaters will be after this family any day now and do you really want you and your twin to be in such a state?"  
George felt slightly ashamed and cast his gaze to the floor. Of course he didn't. He loved his brother; the whole thing had just blown totally out of proportion…REALLY out of proportion. He couldn't even really decide which of them was at fault. They'd never, in their nineteen years of life, lived apart for this long before. It was awfully lonely.  
"Fine." George sighed. "I'll talk to him." Of course he hadn't really meant it when he said they weren't twins anymore. He just hadn't expected Fred to be so hurt; it really highlighted just how grounded Fred could be. George somehow thought his reaction would have been quite similar though, had their positions been reversed._

_George snatched up a stray piece of parchment and scribbled on the back of what appeared to be an essential document of some kind._

_It's awful lonely living alone, mate. Come home whenever you can bear to be in the same room as me again._

"_Here, give this to Fred would you, Mum?" he asked, folding the parchment in half and handing it to Molly who took it, smiling slightly.  
"Of course, dear."_

xxxXxxx

"Course I don't." George muttered to himself, not even sure if Fred would be listening.


	26. Trust Me

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Trust Me**

_We'd be there for each other,  
Always around,  
But you can't hear me,  
As you lie on the ground,_

_So let the tears fall,  
(Though there's nothing I can do),  
Let the tears fall,  
('till the whole night is through)  
__**A Brother's Lament- Let's Lumos**_

xxxXxxx

**Dearest darlingest readers! Sorry about the delay, but never think that I shan't update .I love writing this story way too much to drop it! Anyways, here's the next chapter, I apologize if its shorter than usual...**

**Oh, and April Fools! And HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO FRED AND GEORGE! :D**

**xxxXxxx  
**

Making his decision to stay away from civilisation, after all, surely he had a better chance of finding Dominío away from people? He was in hiding after all; George strayed from the path as soon as the slant flattened out with an intention to hike cross country and avoid coming across civilisation. Truth be told, the Muggle world somewhat intimidated him. The words of the dryads still rang over and over in his mind and then Fred's reasoning that he was bad for George echoed them. If that meant that Fred wouldn't speak to him to protect him then, and it almost killed him to reason this, then so be it, he wasn't about to intentionally put himself in danger to hear his twin's voice and throw himself off a cliff or something. Not that he would ever want Fred to leave him and never speak to him again; he just wasn't so utterly pathetic as to exist purely for that.

It was a beautiful country, George had to admit, so incredibly different to both Russia and England, he could vaguely understand why Dominío would choose a country like this to hide in, though the reasoning probably involved very little to do with the scenery. Was this search ever going to get him anywhere? So far all he had to show for his efforts were the words of dryads, a scar in his side from the shot and a chunk missing from his shoulder. Not exactly productive.  
A part of him couldn't help but wonder if it would have been so bad to stay with those Muggles. At least he would have had decent food and a decent place to sleep. But he had revealed himself to them now by Disapparating in their presence. Not that he really cared but still, there was something about that that girl that he couldn't shake. Like he had seen her before somewhere, but of course that wasn't possible.

A sudden chill raced up George's spine quickly and he spun around, he could have sworn there was someone there, but of course there wasn't. Great, his old friend paranoia was back, how thrilling! No, he was sure he saw something. Quietly he turned around and tried to silence the crunching of the snow beneath his feet as he slowly moved toward the tree, wand raised.

Quickly as he could he spun around the trunk and promptly sighed, lowering his wand. At least he wasn't wrong, he had seen someone. "What the hell do you want?" He grunted.

A young girl, perhaps ten or eleven, stepped back. Her red hair billowing out behind her as a surprisingly forceful breeze blew.

She swallowed and glanced nervously at George's wand. He just glared at her and grunted when she didn't reply.

"Whatever." He turned around to continue, only a minute later he sighed in exasperation and turned again.  
"What do you want, kid?"

This time she spoke, to George's immense surprise, in an English accent. "I know what you are."

"Goodie for you." He grunted, rather surprised at his own bitter attitude towards a kid. "Now stop following me."

"Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?" The girl asked in a manner that George found oddly familiar.

"Fine." He humoured her "What are you doing here?" He really ought to be more suspicious than he was as to why an eleven year old British girl, not only was in Greece but how on earth she got there. That was enough to instantly set his defences up.

"To find you. I know who you are."

The Weasley blinked for a moment before his eyes narrowed and he stalked almost threateningly over to the girl, towering over her. "You're not Bill are you?"

She just blinked at him with large brown eyes and shook her head "No, silly. But I know who you are."

Come to think of it, George realised, this kid looked a lot like Ginny when she was that age, very much like a Weasley.

_I don't trust her._

'Really? What was your first clue, dear brother?'

_Could have done without the sarcasm, George._

"I want to help you."

George, playing along with what appeared to be a charade replied "You can't be serious."

In response, the Ginny-like child tugged a golden chain that hung about her neck out from the confines of her coat. George's eyes simultaneously narrowed and widened, if that was what he thought it was. And he twirled his wand in his fingers suspiciously.  
"Who are you, kid?"

"Guess." She smiled, an expression that reminded George so much of himself and Fred's smirks.

"Hell no, I know what you're doing and it won't work on me." He turned around, refusing to believe that this child could be in any way a Weasley, it had to be someone in disguise trying to get to him.

"Clever, I'll give you that, whoever you are." He muttered and began walking again. "But give me some credit would ya? I'm not that gullible.

"Please? I really can help, I've heard stories, from you."

"And just who the hell are you supposed to be?" He roared, suddenly losing his temper and then paused "Are you my niece? No, sorry, is your disguise _supposed _to be my niece, come back to help me using stories I told you? Forgive me but that's a little farfetched!"

"Hmph, wow you had a temper. Just so you know, you don't change much." She pouted. "I'm not your niece actually." She paused, surveying the man before her. "My name is Josephine, I'm your granddaughter."

There was total silence for several moments, even the wind seemed not to dare disturb it. The man and child stared at each other, the former towering over her, snow gathering on his back and shoulders. It was he who broke the silence…with a laugh, an outright laugh. But there was no mirth in it.

"No you're not. You can't be..." He smirked and then, looking her right in the eyes finished his sentence "Because I really don't expect to be alive long enough for grandkids."

xxxXxxx

"See? See what you caused, Percy?" Bill roared rather uncharacteristically as the two stalked into the yard, past the chook pen outside the Burrow. "You were not supposed to tell them about George!"

"They're our parents, William! They need to know!"

"Mum's in a right state now because YOU gave her the impression George was kidnapped by Russians."

"I merely said what we saw, what we were told!"

"You thought that would give them peace of mind? God, Percy! You're supposed to be rational you ass!" Bill ran a hand through his long hair, absentmindedly brushing the scars along his cheek. He was sweating, despite the chill in the air. "Percy…please, stop this." He pleaded.

"You may not seem to care about our brother, Bill. But I do, I was there when Fred died! I have more right than anyone to redeem myself by protecting George."

Bill gaped, what a load of waffle! The nerve of Percy to think himself having the greatest right to be there for George! No single one of them had the right to interfere completely with George. He clearly didn't want to be found, and they should respect that. Even then a pang of guilt surged through his chest, he had gone to Russia. Despite George's wishes, he had gone to find him.

"Percy…I made a promise. I don't want that promise broken any more than it is." He admitted.

The younger Weasley sniffed, pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and scoffed "A promise? More secrets, Bill? Are you serious?"

The eldest Weasley son sighed "I can't talk to you about this anymore, I just can't. You know what? Do whatever, I don't care. My wife's gonna be having her baby within the next few months and I'm not gonna deal with you!"

"Don't act as though I am ten years old!" Percival shouted indignantly. "I am merely a concerned elder brother, which is more than I can say for you."

"He doesn't want to be found!" Bill cried as his brother turned to head back inside, making him freeze. "Percy, please! Respect that, I want George back safe as much as you do but I don't want him to feel betrayed by me."

"So it is a selfish thing?" Percy turned around, his face stony, "This is bigger than you, William."

Bill ran a hand through his hair and didn't say anything. He really was getting quite distraught now. All he had wanted was to keep his promise and keep his communication with George a secret and he hadn't even managed to achieve that. Percy was a right pain, but Bill couldn't help but feel for him. Since his return almost a year ago and what with being right there when Fred was killed, Percy had constantly been trying to redeem himself. Even now, after it had been almost a year, Percy clearly still felt like he had to make amends for his actions.

"Nothing to say?" Percival snapped "Then fine…I'll not argue with you any longer." And with that he spun and stalked back into the Burrow without a backwards glance.

xxxXxxx

"But you are very much alive, I swear I am!" She cried.

"Prove it." George sneered, on the verge of turning to walk away, but he knew she would follow him so it'd be pointless anyway.

'Josephine' was silent a moment before replying quietly "You told me all about your quest, you told me about how your shoulder was bitten and about the Russian that helped you….and how you lost your finger…"

George gaped and self-consciously glanced at his hands "Wha-"

The child gasped "Oh…that mustn't have happened yet."

_George…seriously, don't trust her._

"Please, let me help." She pleaded, looking remarkably childish for the moment as she played the pity card, an act that did not have an effect on the rather stoic wizard.

"Even if this is true, why the heck would my granddaughter come back forty odd years to help me?" George raised his eyebrow sceptically, shaking the snow from his coat.

"Because…" the girl began, burrowing deeper into her own coat "I love my grandfather, and you told me that these were very difficult times. You said that if you only had some help on your travels than everything would have been easier."

George raised an eyebrow, she did seem to know about his shoulder and surely no one outside of family would have known about Ivan helping him. But why, if he obviously survived on his own anyway, why would this kid come back to help him? He was not going to lose his finger, of that he was certain now. But, really? How likely was it that this could be true?

_George…_ Fred's voice warned in his head.

'I can handle this myself thank you.'

_Really…George…this is not right…_

George narrowed his eyes "See, I still don't believe you. Who are you really?" He had to admit, whoever this was, they had put a great deal of effort into looking the part of a Weasley.

Josephine sighed "Alright, fine. If I'm not convincing you…"

"You're not."

Her lips twisted into what appeared to be half a smirk and half a grimace. "Then you are right not to trust me…"

xxxXxxx

**Anyone who picks up on the less than subtle hint somewhere in the beginning there gets a cookie ;P**


	27. Reflections

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**Reflections**

_I'm tired and thin, haven't slept since the war,  
I'm a mess of wounded skin,  
Like a wine sack that's been torn,  
In the sacred space, behind the lids of my eyes,  
Mad-Eye darkly holds my gaze,  
And I can still see Frederick's laughing face  
__**Phoenix Lament—Ministry of Magic**_

**I'm baaaccccckkk :D Urk, I swear, holidays and doing nothing are much more draining than almost anything else…I missed you all! T.T I can honestly say that I'm glad to be back and here's the first of the chapters that I promised you all!**

**Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to two beautiful people who I love to bits for their exceedingly complimentary reviews! Miss Flobberworm and DarkGarnetRose! Cookies for you!**

xxxXxxx

Her lips twisted into what appeared to be half a smirk and half a grimace. "Then you are right not to trust me…"

George blinked and with that the child had vanished. What was happening? This was all getting far too strange for his liking and now his sense of paranoia had heightened a great deal. "Oh hell…" he muttered to himself and slowly turned around, half expecting to find her there. But she wasn't.  
Steadily he continued on his way, ever more cautious than he had been, having no idea what she had meant, he knew, however that that would not be the last time he'd ever see that kid.

As he walked, pausing to shake the snow from his back every so often, George couldn't help but hear the words of the rhyme echo over again in his mind, predominantly the last lines. "_The one ye seek shall not be found, until evil around you may abound."_

_What do you suppose that means?_

'I don't have the slightest idea.' George frowned, unable to help the sense of foreboding that was seeping over him. 'But it ain't good…and I'm pretty sure evil is starting to abound…'

_Keep moving, George. You shouldn't stay in one place for too long._

'I worked that much out for myself thanks.'

xxxXxxx

_Fred couldn't stop the panic, even now, hours after it had happened his heart was still racing despite the smile he plastered on. He knew full well George would be fine, but that was not the point, the point was that his twin was hurt. His twin could easily have died had that curse struck elsewhere and he hadn't been there with him. He wasn't able to do anything to prevent George's ear being sliced off.  
Hell, he would never, ever forget the painful jolt he had felt in the air, doubtlessly at the time George had been hit, he knew immediately something had happened, the sudden jolt of panic and quick surge of pain that struck him quickly. God…even more memorable was the moment he and their father had arrived at the Burrow to find no George, and then to see him lying sideways on the couch, his head, neck and clothes positively drenched in scarlet blood and, at first glance, unmoving, what a relief it was to hear him joke, even with such a lame thing as 'I'm holey.' _

_Fred couldn't bring himself to leave his brother's side now, he was afraid that if he did, George would suddenly disappear and he would lose him forever. He was perched on the edge of his twin's bed now, not daring to leave him alone in case George cried out in the night.  
"You don't have to do this, mate." George half groaned tiredly, rolling his head onto the wounded side and wincing immediately._

"_I ain't moving, Georgie." Fred replied stubbornly, the pain reflected in his own eyes to see his twin in pain._

"_Seriously, Fred. I'm alright…he only got me ear…"_

"_Could have been a lot worse…I am not moving." He replied, softer this time, in the manner they did as children, completely inseparable. _

_George smirked "Whatever…" he shifted over slightly, he didn't really want his twin to leave. Truth be told his head hurt like hell and he knew there was no way he could sleep through the whole night, let alone with the death of Mad-Eye weighing heavily on everyone's mind.  
Ah, what the hell, there was no way he was gonna get to sleep anyway, the younger twin sighed, and heaved himself into a sitting position beside Fred.  
"Things ain't gonna get much brighter than this, I can tell you right now." Fred sighed, eyeing the slowly bloodying bandage on his twin's head. "It's still not stopping, huh?"_

_George shook his head "Stings like hell on earth too, God…I feel like I'm gonna throw up."_

_Fred scowled darkly, he hated it, hated being helpless, there was really nothing he could do to stop his twin's pain, nothing he was able to do to protect him, sure George would probably pretend he was fine and it wasn't hurting him but Fred would know better.  
"I'm sorry…" He muttered._

_George blinked at him, knowing exactly what Fred was apologizing for "What? You could have stopped Snape slicing it off?"_

_Fred shrugged "I should have protected you; I should have been with you…"_

"_Geez stop acting like I died, I only lost an ear, like you said it could have been much worse." He sat up a little straighter, holding a hand to his head "And I'm not entirely helpless you know."_

"_You would react exactly the same way if it were me who'd been injured, you know you would." Fred retorted, it came with being an identical twin and having, in his opinion, the strongest bond possible._

_His twin nodded to himself…yeah, that was probably true. No, no it was definitely true and honestly, he probably was likely to wake up in the night in pain. His ear, or rather, hole in his head was burning despite everything his mother had put on it to stop that._

_Fred perched himself further up on the bed, resting his back against the backboard. "You don't know how scary that was, mate. When I saw you with blood all over you, and you weren't moving…God…I really thought you were dead. I really couldn't imagine not having a twin for the rest of my life when we're only nineteen."_

_George opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by an overwhelming attack of nausea, prompting him to jump out of bed hurriedly, the effects of losing an ear already striking with full force.  
Only a second after he did, Fred appeared in the bathroom as his twin emptied the contents of his stomach, kneeling beside him and refusing to leave choosing instead to remain by his side, forever afraid he would lose his best friend and identical twin if he didn't make sure he was alright. If he even left his side for a minute or two when George needed him, Fred was sure he would disappear._

xxxXxxx

George had stopped to rest now, leaning against a tree and absentmindedly tossing a small rock up and down in his hand. He'd managed to put aside the warning and was dwelling instead on memories, trying to relive the better times he'd had with Fred. Then it occurred to him, what everyone had thought of them, they'd always been the mischievous, no good, crude, luck of the devil, smart asses as a pair. What amazed him was how different opinions seemed of them each as individuals, and how wrong they were. He knew for a fact that everyone thought of him, George, as the quieter, less intense twin, he even got the impression that people may even think of him as, heaven forbid, **shy** without Fred. Heck no!

But that wasn't what bothered him anymore; it was what they had thought of Fred that really pissed him off. Not only that he was the more intense twin, which didn't bother George, in fact it was probably true actually, but there were people, granted certainly not their own family, that definitely thought of Fred Weasley as cruel and almost uncaring, that he took pleasure in other's pain. What a load of codswallop! Fair enough the both of them did take pleasure in tormenting people they despised, but generally only people who deserved it. It wasn't as though they would have a good laugh about Seamus Finnegan losing a leg or anything. People who thought that about Fred didn't realise how wrong they were, the twins were severely indignant about Percy's betrayal all those years ago but yet Fred was the first to forgive him. Truth be told, Fred could be incredibly caring. If he was concerned about someone there was no way he would leave them if he had the choice, it was only because he had never been one for outwardly displaying sadness or fear except in extreme situations that people thought that, George was the only one who knew Fred literally better than the back of his hand.

George wasn't really sure why these thoughts crossed his mind but his mood, already bad had reached depressed again, it wasn't healthy to dwell on memories and thoughts of Fred and he knew it, but it was the only thing he had left to keep Fred 'alive', though really he never would truly die, especially not to George. He didn't care, he didn't care if he was depressed and he didn't care if people thought the worst of him for it. He just wanted to get this stupid 'quest' over with and go home to his flat where he could spend his days doing little. Damn, what he wouldn't give for Firewhisky right now.

He grunted, it was best if he moved on again now, his track growing steadily steeper all the while as he walked still further. But a few minutes had passed before something made him freeze in his path and stare stonily ahead. A figure blocked his way, staring back at him, he appeared to have frozen too, as though he hadn't expected George to be there.  
The wizard's jaw dropped, so did the other figure's, George's eyes widened, so did those blue eyes of the other for what George appeared to be staring at, was a mirror image of himself. Slowly he lifted his right hand, the right hand of his double rose also. Could it be a mirror? Well, he supposed, it had to be, some sort of spell reflecting his image. Was this what the dryads had meant? Surely whatever spell this was couldn't be good? Unless of course it was some kind of protective enchantment…had he actually found or was he growing close to finding Dominío?  
George took a step forward, reaching out his fingers preparing to feel some sort of glass or shield. Of course the reflection's fingers were outstretched also, reaching toward George.

His fingers were about an inch away before he drew them back, this could well be a trap, and how foolish would he have to be to fall right into it? Who knew what touching this supposed mirror would do? He failed to notice that his 'reflection' was a fraction slower to draw away its fingers, too busy thinking of a spell that would protect him from this unknown enchantment. It didn't come and George took a step back along with the other figure. Fred wasn't saying anything in his head, but that was the least of George's worries at the moment. What was this spell, he hadn't heard of one that acted as a mirror, and what were to happen if he touched it? The figure across from him suddenly moved, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards into a smile as though trying to beckon George forward. If it wasn't obvious before now it was certainly obvious now that this was an enchantment of some kind but whether designed to protect something hidden or to merely prove an obstacle remained unknown.

Acting on an impulse that he never planned on acting on, the twin took a few steps forward, reaching his hand forth again to meet the outstretched fingers of his reflection. Their fingers did meet this time but it was not glass nor any kind of barrier George felt beneath his fingers, but skin and that was when George noticed for the first time the differences that made his heart leap, the most predominant of which…his 'reflection' had two ears.

xxxXxxx

**Well there's one for you! I just love leaving you all hanging with a cliffy, don't you? :P**

**Also, I really love writing flashbacks and memories but what do you guys think of them? And if there's any particular flashback you would like to see, just let me know and I'll see what I can do, hey?**

**=D**


	28. Deceit

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**Deceit**

_He lives in you,  
He lives in me,  
He watches over,  
Everything we see,_

_Into the water,  
Into the truth,  
In your reflection,  
He lives in you….  
__**He Lives in You- The Lion King **_

xxxXxxx

**Aaaaannnnd here's the next one :D Here is where the result of the…somewhat of a cliffhanger is revealed! Enjoy :D**

xxxXxxx

"Fred…"  
George didn't drop his hand, and nor did the figure looking back at him, a small smile creasing his features. George couldn't close his mouth, feeling tears beginning to burn in his eyes as he took in the other, much less subtle differences that George could have sworn had not been there a minute ago. A large gash spread across his twin's head, crimson blood staining his clothes and he was still dressed in what Fred had been wearing that day, in fact he looked quite different from George that the living twin was quietly surprised he hadn't seen it at once.  
But no...surely not…Fred couldn't be here…

As if to confirm it, Fred pressed their palms together, his own azure eyes mirroring the tears in George's. "It's me." Was all he said, all he could say as his twin simply stared.  
Almost afraid, George moved his hand, not daring to believe that his dead twin was really standing before him, the time in Russia when he'd been about to really end his own life replayed in his mind, Fred had appeared then too, but only for an instant. The look on his face would forever stick in George's memory, one so utterly distraught and full of pain, a face like that is not forgotten easily.  
But now, now here he was, standing solidly before him, looking as he did when he had died, still covered in blood.  
"F-Fred?" George stammered, a little louder than the first time, not wanting to blink.  
He nodded, his smile growing. George swayed uneasily on his feet, half feeling like he might faint, Fred was here, he was really here. His desire to see Fred again was clouding his judgement, was this really Fred after all? Without really controlling himself George stepped forward again to embrace his twin, as far as he was concerned if he could actually touch Fred than he was there. And he could, not caring about the blood that was starting to stain his own clothes he hugged his twin.  
"Let go…"  
At first the words didn't register in George's mind, after all, surely Fred wouldn't say that, not when George hadn't seen him for about nine months. But then his brother pulled back and George stepped back, a look of confusion plastered on his face. Fred's on the other hand held a much darker look.  
"Fred?" It only vaguely registered that that was the only word he had spoken in the past five or so minutes.

His brother looked back, the edge of his lips curling upwards in a smirk and then, before the living Weasley registered what was happening, Fred had swung his fist as hard as he could, catching George's eye and sending him staggering sideways, tripping over his own feet in the process and tumbling to the ground.  
"Bloody hell! What was that for?" He cried, getting to his feet and staring in utter bewilderment at his twin.  
Fred narrowed his eyes "You know bloody well what." He gestured grandly at the wound on his head. "You, George Weasley, **you** killed me."

George could only stare at him in amazement, still totally convinced this was really Fred. Apparently he was too silent because Fred scoffed.  
"For a twin of mine you sure are stupid, George, I know you're smarter than that."  
"I-I didn't kill you, Fred…it was Rookwood."  
"Not directly you didn't." Fred was pacing now, almost circling George who stared, tears again stinging his eyes, how could his brother think such things?  
_It's not me, that's how!  
_George heard it but completely disregarded it, Fred was standing before him physically he was real and it would be hard to convince him otherwise, even if he was accusing him.  
"You weren't there; you didn't make Dad change his mind. If you had stayed and fought with me, I wouldn't be dead!" Fred shouted now "It's your fault, George! It's your fault!" With that, Fred swung again, striking right where George's left ear had been sliced off.  
_George, don't listen! It is not me!  
_How could it not be? He was telling the truth, George supposed, crying out in pain as his old wound was aggravated, burning like anything and he could feel a trickle of something warm run down the side of his face. It was his fault though, Fred was absolutely right, if he had been with his twin like he should have been he could have saved Fred. Even if it meant losing his own life he could have saved Fred, so really Fred was right to accuse him and react in such a way. Something was wrong though, George never thought like this, completely resigned. The third strike George didn't even try to dodge, doubling over in pain as Fred's foot slammed into his gut. Why wasn't he using his wand? Get it over with quicker.  
"I'm sorry…"He groaned, why was his brother doing this?  
"Get up, George! Stop being a coward…crucio!"  
George barely fought back a scream, instead a strangled cry escaped his lips as he collapsed twitching, he hadn't even realised Fred had his wand in his hand.  
_George! Please! That's obviously not me! You know I wouldn't do that!  
_Perhaps it was simply that he wanted so badly for Fred to be alive, even if he was torturing him that George still refused to acknowledge Fred's pleading, almost tortured voice in his head, begging him.

Fred was looking down sadistically at George staring back up at him, horror and tears evident in his eyes. "It's your fault that I'm dead. Did you even care when I died?"  
Putting aside the pain for the moment, George gaped, how could Fred ask him that? He voiced his thoughts quietly.  
"How can you ask that?" He asked in a voice thick with pain and sorrow, at the moment he wanted nothing more than to die, than for his own twin to kill him and make it even.  
"It took you weeks to even cry for me."  
George forced himself to stagger to his feet again, almost insulted now. "And I've barely stopped since." He spat "Do you know how often I literally had to cry myself to sleep like a bloody baby?"  
_God, George! Please? Can't you tell it's not me?  
_"You have never once come to the graveyard, everyone else has. Dad, Percy, Ginny, even Charlie. But not you. Because I know, George." A horrible sneer plastered itself on the face of the 'twin' "I know you've always wanted not to have a twin. So you took your chance. You took it and you killed me! You're responsible for your own identical twin's death!"  
Obviously preferring to physically inflict pain on George, he viciously punched him again, following it up with a fast kick to the ribs.  
George spluttered, groaning as he both felt and heard several ribs either crack or break. "Why? Why are you doing this?" The tears were falling freely now, running down his cheeks and dropping one by one to the ground.  
_Fine…I have to prove it. I'll not watch you be killed!_  
It was then when George summoned the strength to lift his head and look his 'brother' directly in the eye, to plead with him to just kill him, that his attention was caught by something else to the left of his attacker.

A man, identical to George but for his injuries and clothing, stood there, identical to the attacker although it seemed, invisible to him. There was a single difference between them, and George noticed it immediately, his physical attacker's eyes were full of sadistic pleasure, whilst the eyes of the other were full of nothing but pain and almost lost hope. It was clear which was truly his twin.  
"…I'm so sorry, Fred." He muttered and lifted his face to look at his attacker. "You're not real…"

He wasn't taken aback; he had expected the man to figure it out eventually, but even now, would he be able to harm the body of his own twin? He smirked.  
"You won't win."

George's own eyes mirrored the pain in those of his real twin, he may know that this was not Fred, but there was no chance he could attack someone using his appearance. It may mean literally killing his identical twin.  
"You're not real." He said louder, slowly drawing his wand. "How dare you take his appearance! AND MINE!" He cried, aiming his wand, incredibly shakily at his attacker's throat.

He stood back spreading his arms and giving George a clear, easy shot. "Go on." He challenged. "Kill me!"

There was a tense, long moment of silence in which George attempted to summon the words. He knew it wasn't his brother standing before him, but he would never forgive himself for intentionally harming or murdering Fred, whether it was truly him or not.  
_Do it, George. Please…  
_'I can't…'

"Time's up." Said the sneering voice "Crucio!"

Before George had even seen the wand move he was on the ground again, writhing in agony, besieged with feelings of inadequacy and hopelessness. Whatever spell this was it was a damn good one, designed to play the victims weaknesses to extremes. And hell…it was working.  
It was too much, this was literally too much for him. It was very out of character for a Weasley twin to simply give up but at the moment he really did not care any longer.  
"Kill me…" He muttered, almost spitefully through the pain. "I'd rather die at the hand of my brother than any other."  
'Oh look…I made a rhyme…' he thought vaguely, completely beside the point of the situation as another torture curse struck him.  
"Oh, I'll kill you. I'll kill you like you killed your twin." Was the reply, it was circling him now, thoroughly revelling in the wizard's pain. "Although, your death will be far more drawn out…"  
_Get up, George! Please…if you die here…  
_'I'd rather die.'  
Despite himself, George summoned the strength to begin to haul himself to his feet once again, though he had no intention to fight. A leather shoed foot slammed into his gut again, sending him back to the ground, a loud scream of pain slipped through his lips as he felt what he was sure was a shard of bone breaking off the rib.  
"What the hell are you? No enchantment can do this…" He spat blood.  
"I assure you, you've seen me around. Remember the little girl, Josephine? Or the Greek girl…Irene?"  
It took a moment for this information to sink into George's brain "What? You're some kind of…shapeshifter or something?" He raised an eyebrow, they were very few and far between shapeshifters were.  
'Fred' smirked "Or something. You were right not to trust me though, I'll give you that." Twirling the wand over in his fingers, he raised an eyebrow "You're not as stupid as you look."  
"Funny you should say that…you do realise you look just like me?"  
That earned George another strike to the side of the head, his head felt like it was on fire, literally.  
"At any rate, you've got something I want. Or rather, we want. You see, there are more after you than just I. So either you give it to me and…crucio! And you die quickly, or you don't and you die much slower."

That was it, it was far too much now, he had to fight back…even if it meant harming his own twin's form. He gritted his teeth and gripped his wand which he had amazingly not dropped. His opponent was faster however, he caught sight of the wand before George could even open his mouth and but a quick expelliarmus later he held it in his own hand.

"I really thought you'd be better than that. God, I thought you were intelligent." He yawned. "Now, what's it going to be, Georgie?"

It couldn't be any plainer that whatever was after him was after the bottle he had hidden away, George gritted his teeth and said nothing, he wouldn't give it up, and now he so wanted to fight, he had lost his wand. In a quick, single movement, George pushed himself onto his feet and lunged forward, catching the shifter by surprise and landing a blow to his jaw.  
"Bastard…" he spat.

The shifter reeled around, his eyes steely whilst baring a hint of sadistic glee that George found absolutely terrifying to see in the eyes of Fred. "Guess that's a no then."  
"I'm going to kill you, George. You're going to die at the hands of dear Freddie. Whoa now! None of that!" He cried, for George had made a mad grab for his wand, his fingers brushing the wood.  
"I won't…you're not Fred."  
"Let me put it this way. You're gonna die. If not by me then by the next one that comes after you."  
"You said you were that Greek girl…what's that make 'her' brother?"  
"Do you really expect me to rattle on, telling you all about in the danger you're in?" The shifter smirked, ducking George's hand and in the same movement sending a jet of blue toward George. It struck him in the chest, sending him backwards into a tree, bruising his back. It occurred to him then that so far this quest had given him more injuries than the past twenty years had, and that was saying something considering the line of work the twins had chosen.  
His vision was clouding now, he knew he couldn't beat this, perhaps if he had fought back from the start he would definitely have a chance, but he'd left it far too long. He could barely move for the pain now, it felt like every bone in his body was bruised, which to be fair, was probably true.  
_Oh God…George get up…  
_Loud laughter echoed from above him and the twin lifted his eyes and blinked, there was a wand aimed directly at his chest.  
"Kill me…just do it!" He spat blood, only half fearful for his life, he was lightheaded, undoubtedly from blood loss and he felt sure he would black out at any moment.

And he did, the last thing he remembered as darkness enveloped him was the sneering of his opponent being replaced with a look of utter shock. Then all was black.


	29. Live

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**Live**

_So maybe if they say their strong,  
They'll always have someone to rely on,  
And maybe when the dark closes in,  
You'll do anything,_

_Here you are now,  
You're trying your best but it's not good enough,  
And you could lose everything,  
__**Fight or Flight- Riddle TM**_

_**Deeeeddddiiicaaatiiionnn- this chapter it dedicated to: jennimiley, xXcoolkat390Xx and cutietrp.  
I love every single one of my beloved readers to bits! Thank you all so much T^T I don't care if I'm a broken record.**_

xxxXxxx

George blinked and lifted his head. Where was he? Wherever he was he was he was alone. He had been lying on his stomach and immediately sat up. He prodded his side, no pain, no broken ribs and his head wasn't burning any longer.  
His immediate assumption was that he must be dead, surely that was the only explanation. As his vision came into focus he realised that his surroundings had not changed, he was still in the same forest in the same snow. His head felt…different…George frowned and lifted a hand to the left side of it promptly withdrawing it with a gasp. His ear was there! He had been without it for so long he'd forgotten was it was like to have two ears. What the hell? He was definitely dead…wasn't he?  
He slowly got to his feet, one hand on the tree's trunk, slowly turning on the spot to confirm that he was alone.  
He wasn't. As he completed his turn he gave a shout of surprise and almost fell backwards at the sight. Perched on a low branch, swinging their legs lazily above the snow sat...Tonks. Tonks? Seriously? George had certainly not expected that, if anyone where to show up he would expect it to be Fred. Certainly not Nymphadora in any case.

She was smiling down at him, her hair her preferred shade of bubblegum pink and looking for all the world very much alive.  
"Well hi there, George, long time no see." She grinned at him.

He simply stared at her for several moments "I'm dead aren't I?" He asked after a while.

She didn't answer and instead sighed "Friendly ain't ya? I expected at least a how do you do….not that that wouldn't be a pointless question ey?"  
She sighed as George continued to stare, waiting for an answer. "Geez, you really have a different personality now…sorry. Are you dead?" She paused, as if to think about it "Yes and no I suppose. By that I mean you're damn close to it."  
With that the young mother jumped from her perch on the branch to land in front of George, looking him up and down.  
"You've no idea why I'm here do you?"

George shook his head "Or why I'm here for that matter. Can't I just be dead?"

"You really do want to die, don't you?" Her voice was half understanding and half sarcastic. Which was the dominant was indecipherable. "It's not all it's cracked up to be."

"I don't care." George said stoically "I haven't anything to live for now, I finally realise that."

Nymphadora sighed "Bright little ray of sunshine aren't ya, George? I don't even know why I'm here alright? I haven't got a special message for you if that's what you're looking for." She sighed and her eyes, now a shade of brown, softened "But you don't want to die, George but hey…" she lifted her head as a snowflake dropped gently onto her "There are others who can talk you out of it perhaps a lot better than me."  
And with that, the witch turned to walk off, making for the thicker part of the trees. She froze suddenly and turned "And, make sure my son knows his parents loved him…" she looked quite sad for a moment before hastily adding "Wotcher, George."

She had gone now, leaving George no better off than he had been before. He lifted a hand to his ear again, how could he only be close to death. He had been that before and nothing like this had ever happened.  
Was it even happening now? He clenched his eyes shut for a few moments and pinched himself, it must just be a dream. But when he opened his eyes nothing had changed. He so wanted to see the real Fred again, but then, it would probably be enough to kill him, not that that would be such a bad thing.

"Hey."

That voice, that single word was enough to make George lift his resigned head. Enough to make his jaw quiver and his eyes fill with tears. He didn't care about crying anymore, there was a time when neither Fred nor George would be caught dead crying, that time died along with Fred.

But it wasn't only him crying now, as he lifted his head, the very first thing he noticed was his twin's face was shining with tears. Crystal orbs that continued to fall as the brothers stared at each other.

"You're dying, Georgie. You're dying…" Fred voice was shaky and he shook his head slightly to himself.

It was only then that George realised, Tonks had looked very much alive…well for a dead woman, while Fred was as bloody as the day he died.  
He nodded "I've been told…but…you are really here, right? I mean, this is you?" Half apprehensively he stepped forward.

Fred nodded "Yeah…I'm here. God, you don't know what it's like to watch myself killing my twin…"

George lost it then, completely lost control of his emotions and finally allowed himself to break. Dropping to his knees in the snow he let himself cry, wracking sobs that shook his whole body. He felt four years old again, blubbering like a child and clenching his arms in a feeble attempt to stop himself shaking. And then Fred was beside him, his arms around his brother's shoulders and his own tears falling silently.

They stayed like that until George's sobs slowly subsided, he hiccupped slightly. Never had he felt more childish but he knew Fred's face must look the same. And it did, he saw as he looked up. Fred's eyes were as red as he was sure his were and his cheeks blotchy.

"Why won't you let me die?" He muttered "We can be twins again."

Fred smiled sadly "You know the answer to that. Because you won't let me go…and until you do, I'll do anything to keep you alive." He sighed and dropped his hands "You gotta live, George."

"You tell me honestly you'd be able to let me go if I had died. Then I'll let go." George challenged, looking Fred in the eyes.

The elder twin did not answer, had it been George, Fred knew that his own life would already have ended but he would not let that happen to George.

"You can't…and neither can I." George said "Please, Fred. Don't try to convince me to wake up. Let me stay…" He wiped his eyes with a sleeve and sniffed.

"I know I can't talk you out of anything, George. I'll never convince you to wake up. I'm just telling you…you'll die if you don't soon." Fred sounded almost resigned, and he was almost, relying on a last attempt to remind George what dying meant.

"Don't you get it, idiot! I WANT to die." George shouted, getting to his feet "I want to be your twin again."

"What about the family, George? Haven't you thought about them?" Fred pleaded, getting to his own feet, exactly the same height as his twin. "Seriously, if you died too…they already don't know what's happened to you!"

"God! You sound like Percy, I don't care Fred." It was amazing really, how quickly he could so from blubbering to being fiercely angry with his dead twin. His brother actually wanted him to leave him.

"I don't care if I sound like a prat! They'll never find your body…"It was a horrible thought really, and the elder twin couldn't imagine how it must have felt for George to see his dead body.  
"You know I ain't going nowhere…"

"I'll age and you won't! I don't wanna die at eighty and you'll still be twenty…hell no!"

Fred turned away then and sighed, "Please, George. You gotta live."

George didn't speak so Fred continued "We're identical twins. We promised that we'd always be there for each other, right? Always together?"

Behind him, George nodded "But you already broke that…" he muttered quietly.

Fred turned around then and nodded too "I know I did. But I can still be here for you…just not literally. " He sighed, tucking one hand into a pocket and walked back over to George, laying a hand on his shoulder.  
"Being dead ain't all it's made out to be. It's damn boring actually."

"Well I'll liven things up." George responded stubbornly.

"If you're here…I can't call you Lugless anymore…" Fred sighed dejectedly, clapping George on his newly restored ear. "You'll never see anyone again if you die now. You'll never be a godfather, and the kid's already got one dead uncle. They don't need two."

George said nothing and pulled his head away, an overwhelming sense of guilt beginning to overcome him. No. He couldn't let it. His first loyalty was to Fred and no one else.

"You gotta live, George. Live…"And with that Fred blinked away the tears in his eyes, one escaping as he embraced his twin. But this time, George couldn't return it, and by the time he did lift his arms to do so…Fred had gone.

He stood in silence for several moments but it felt like hours, George only stared at his feet. His hair hanging over his eyes, effectively hiding it completely from any passer-by, not that there would be any.

"Is that it then?" he muttered, so softly at first he could barely hear himself. His head shot up, staring into the air and the falling snow.

"IS THAT IT?" A snow flake dropped into his eye but he ignored it "YOU'RE GONNA BLOODY LEAVE ME NOW?" He shook his head, white flecks of snow flying from it and melting in the air.

"That's not keeping your promise…" he trembled his hands clenching into fists at his sides "Stop breaking your promise!"

Fred didn't come back and George stood there, shaking, but refusing to allow the fresh salty tears access to his cheeks.

He could have resembled a snowman when he finally moved to shake the snow from himself. He didn't know what to do anymore. How did he even wake up anyway? Even if he wanted to? Did he just hang around here until his body decided it had enough and finally died? How boring. Still he'd rather die.  
But it was awfully lonely, he knew Fred wouldn't come back, as long as he was here, he would be alone. Would he come back if he woke? His heart leapt, would Fred talk to him again if he lived? Much as he hated to admit it, it was probably better than hanging around in between life and death completely alone.

But how did he wake up?

xxxXxxx

The stationary body twitched slightly, his bare chest only rising and falling so slightly it was unnoticeable unless you took the time to study it. The damage was obvious, almost every wound fresh with the exception of his shoulder and missing ear. He appeared quite dead at first glance, his skin pale and gaunt, as though all blood had evacuated his body and his limbs limp and lifeless.  
The glow and warmth of the fire did nothing to warm the iciness of his skin. But despite all that, beneath the thin eyelids his eyes were darting around, his lips slightly parted to allow that slight wisp of life sustaining air in and out.  
Then, without any kind of warning, his eyelids snapped open.

xxxXxxx

**XD I'm so, so sorry! I know you all hate me now but cliffhangers keep you interested soooooo….that is my excuse :P I apologize for the slight shortness but I reeealllly wanted to get this chapter out soooo here :) **


	30. Dominio

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Thirty**

**Dominío **

I live to let you shine,  
I live to let you shine,

_But you can skyrocket away from me,  
and never come back if you find another galaxy,  
far from here with more room to fly,  
just leave me your stardust to remember you by  
__**Boats and Birds-Gregory and the Hawk**_

**Dedication- This chapter is dedicated to HahaPhelpsHaha and Miss Flobberworm, thank you so much! 3**

xxxXxxx

His eyelids snapped open. His blue eyes darting around trying to get his bearings, he was no longer in the forest that much was obvious and, without thinking, he sat up. This was an action he regretted instantly and promptly cried out loudly in pain and collapsed back, his head smacked onto something hard and he groaned. He appeared to be lying on the floor, well, more correctly a rug on the floor. He really could not move without hurting and slowly propped himself up on his elbows.

It was a small room, rather the size one would find in a little cottage, and particularly unfamiliar. To his right a fire crackled away in the fireplace, doing nothing to warm him in any small measure. To his left an overstuffed couch covered in hideous and faded flowery fabric sat.

George blinked and shifted slightly, it suddenly occurred to him he was shirtless and looked down to see the extent of the damage. It was certainly not a pretty sight. His skin was more blue and purple than his usual pale complexion and his skin appeared to have been sewn back together in a straight line up the upper part of his chest as though someone had sewn it back up which he supposed to be a very peculiar remedy. The idea of skin being physically sewn back together, really? Hadn't that been what his dad had tried in St Mungos?

His head was ringing and almost unconsciously he lifted a hand to the side of his head to find a fresh bandage there. Clearly the blows to his head had done their share of damage. His hand was bandaged too now that he looked at it.

"You are avake."

George jumped and immediately his attention shot to the doorway across from him, a man stood there, unsmiling and holding a small bowl in his hands. He commanded the impression that he was certainly not interested in humour and his gruff voice held an accent that was not Greek.

The Weasley said nothing and the man grunted, making his way into the room toward him stopping a few feet from the wounded wizard who only stared at him.

"Vell? Can you speak, boy?"

George still did not speak, only eyed his apparent rescuer suspiciously as he sighed and drew a cloth from the bowl and kneeled next to George.

"Clearly not…" without warning he dabbed the liquid drenched cloth onto George's neck.

It stung like hell and George jerked away wincing, his elbows slipping from under him and skinning themselves as he caught himself from striking the floor again.

"Bloody hell! What are you doing?" He cried, really not in the mood for trusting anyone at the moment.

The man glared at him "Healing your injuries, boy. And vatch that neck."

Slowly George raised a hand to his neck and withdrew it quickly, it was clearly bruised quite badly and felt almost twice its normal thickness.  
"What –What are these?" He asked tentatively, motioning to his chest, gently touching the stiches and shuddering ever so slightly. It was indeed a strange feeling.

"A muggle vemedy, odd indeed but effective." He grunted "You had a shard ov bone embedded in your lung, almost killed you. It vas not entertaining getting it out."

"Who are you? Why're you helping me?" George narrowed his eyes, finally placing the accent which sounded remarkably like Russian to be…well, Russian.

"I believe you alveady know." The man grunted and suddenly, without warning, prodded George's ribs.

He yelped and skirted aside as best he could, staring at the apparent wizard like he was crazy.  
"Would you stop that?"

The Russian glowered darkly at him "Still broken and you vould be vell and truly dead had I not interfered."

"Why did you?" George retorted quickly "You don't know me."

"Because you vere leading them vight to me, you ungrateful, English brat!"

The insult sailed over George's head, he had stopped listening after 'vight to me'. No way! This was him? _This_ was Demetrius Dominío? It seemed extremely strange to come across him this way.

"So…the shapeshifter is…"

"Dead." Was the reply as the cloth was pressed to George's forehead, perhaps more aggressively than it would have been.

"An-And you saved me…why? Would have been much easier to let me die."

The apparent Russian grunted again "I am not stupid. I know you vere looking for me and I know vhy."

That confirmed it, this was definitely the man he had searched for.  
"Then you are…you're Dominío aren't you?"

The only reply he got was a blanket tossed onto his head "You are not moving for a vile. I thought you vere dead not a short vile ago."

George pulled the old, grey blanket off his head and made to get up, suddenly remembering the bottle in his coat. "My clothes, my bag…"

Demetrius withdrew a wand from somewhere and flicked it. George's satchel and a pile of tattered and bloody clothing levitated themselves across the room and dropped beside him. He fished through it, feeling the thickness of his coat and tugging it out. It felt suspiciously lighter and he didn't need to rip open the lining to be able to tell what was missing.  
He swore and tossed it aside. Well, that just made this whole thing pointless, he couldn't even keep the bottle from being stolen.

"I have it. It vas not taken." His voice was bitter, as it would be for one who had attempted to rid himself of the offending object for good only to get it back.

George bit his lip, he thought he deserved to be a little untrusting at the present "How do I know you're actually him?"

The Russian scowled darkly at The Englishman "Look. Vould you rather be dead? Do you think you vould be alive vight now if I vas not?"

George looked darkly back and tossed the blanket aside. Like hell he was going to keep lying on the floor like an invalid. Looking and feeling more dead than alive, he attempted to stand. Dominío made no attempt to stop him as he did so only grunted and left the room, knowing full well the boy was too weak to do very much.

"Oi! I'm not finished!"

"Oh I think you are." He called back and began to count backwards from five in his mind. Sure enough, after one, a swearword echoed from the room he had just left, followed by a thump.

xxxXxxx

Molly Weasley opened the door, what was present of the family had just sat down to dinner. That meaning that her husband, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Percy and herself had sat down to dinner.  
A witch stood at the front door, peering over Molly's shoulder trying to get a good look inside. Just as the door swung closed back in her face, a vibrantly red high heel stuck into the doorway, providing the opportunity for the witch to slip inside.

"Now, now. We must not be rude." She smiled a poisonous, wide toothed smile and peered around in the entrance, admitting herself entrance to the kitchen before Molly could order her to leave.

Five other bodies leapt to their feet, one chair clattering to the floor as she entered and simultaneously, six voices hissed the same thing. "Get out!"

Rita Skeeter smiled again, as though she had received a very warm welcome to the Burrow. "I'm actually here to see Georgie. You see, he doesn't seem to be in his own home." She cleared her throat and crinkled her nose at the sight of the older furniture and mismatched chairs "But…I see he is not here."

Arthur stepped forward threateningly "Look here. You have done enough damage to my family and I want you OUT of my house at once!"

"You call this a house?" She arched an eyebrow "No, no, you've got me all wrong. I just want to chat. So! Who's first?"

No hands were raised, Molly gently pushed her husband back a little and glowered darkly at the reporter. "George is not here! And you'll not get anything here! So leave before I am forced to do something I'm sure the world will be glad for!"

"So! Where is he then?" She asked quickly aiming to catch someone off guard.

It worked and the next words to come out of Molly's mouth were "We don't know!" Immediately she bit her tongue.

Behind Rita's back the Quick Quotes Quill had been zooming across parchment eagerly. Rita didn't miss the quiver in the older witch's jaw as she had said that.

"He ran away?" She asked, feigning concern. "And you don't fear that he has…done something drastic?"

"Molly…" Arthur warned as Percy appeared at his shoulder, gripping his father's shoulder in warning.

Molly's brown eyes filled with tears, something that the reporter undoubtedly noticed. She said nothing but looked away, Percy had told the family George was or at least had been in Russia…but now…now doubts began to arise again.

Rita's sickly smile widened, she took that as a yes. "Oh dear…I'm awfully sorry, you've lost both identical twins then?"

Molly hiccupped on the verge of sobs; Arthur protectively wrapped an arm around her but it was Percy who answered in defence.

"George is not dead!"

"Oh poor man…you're in denial. Forgive me, but was it not you that was present when Frederick was killed?"

"His name is not Frederick! It's Fred!" Ron yelled from the table, kicking over his own chair in his anger.

Skeeter didn't even look at him, her eyes fixed upon the young Ministry wizard who was glaring fiercely.

"He is not dead." He stated steely again.

"Oh that's alright, I know it was you." She crooned "You poor dear, watching your brother die must have put you into such denial that you believe that George himself was invincible." She strode around the kitchen, her sharp eyes analysing every little thing. "But, even if he has only ran away. I personally fear for his sanity."

"George is fine!" Ron defended but still Rita did not even glance at him and continued, the quill never ceasing its incessant scribbling.

"You know, the last time I saw dear Georgie, he physically attacked me. Rambling on as though I had stolen something precious…" she shook her head in mock pity "The poor boy was delusional. I can't think he is any better off now."

"YOU DID!" Arthur burst then, he had always been particularly fond of the picture of his twin sons in their new Quidditch gear.

Molly, whose tears had been sliding silently down her cheeks, clenched her fists "I will physically attack you if you do not LEAVE MY HOUSE NOW!"

"Oh come now. I am here FOR you not against you." That sickly, poisonous, lipstick smothered smile was back, stretching across her plastic looking skin. "I only want to help you cope with such another awfully devastating loss."

Behind Ron, even Hermione's skin was prickling, her own knuckles turning white as she dug her fingers into her palm to keep herself from hexing the woman.

"George is perfectly alright!" Percival scowled, effectively adding another inch or two to his height by determinedly puffing himself up.

An idea tickled Rita Skeeter's brain. There was only a slight possibility it would prove advantageous but why not try it, for the sake of a far better story. She pressed her lips together and adjusted her bright red jacket.

"Come now, dears. Be honest. I already know about his suicide attempt." She really had no idea if this was true but if this plan worked…

The reaction was immediate. Every person in the room stiffened and Molly gasped. Percy and Ronald both took a step backwards. It was Percy that gave Rita the very opportunity that she had been looking for.

"How did…you know about his wrists?"

"PERCY!" Arthur cried, he had thought that Rita was just bluffing and was still sure she had been. But now that she did know…

She smiled very evilly and grinned "AH HA! So he DID try to kill himself."

And with that, before Percy had realised what he had done, the reporter Disapparated.

xxxXxxx

**There you go guys! *Shudder* how I HATE Rita Skeeter, and how I HATE writing her. Anyways!**


	31. Truth

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**Truth**

_He'd share his thoughts, be a friend  
Stick with me until the end…_

_And I'm missing you  
I'm just missing you_

_Now I'm all alone_  
_Now you're gone for good_  
_Now I'm stuck right here wishing I understood_

_**Missing You- A Very Potter Musical**_

xxxXxxx

George stared into the dying embers; he had wrapped himself in the blanket for warmth but hadn't been bothered trying to find a clean shirt, it probably wasn't wise for him to anyway. He didn't think he could even lift his arms enough to put one on without being in quite a lot of pain.  
He'd curled himself up on the small couch. If he lay outstretched his legs from his knees downwards hung off the end. A bowl of rather nice smelling and what appeared to be rabbit stew lay on the floor beside him but the wizard couldn't bring himself to eat. It had been hours since Dominío had brought the stew, still warm from the fire, and George hadn't said a word. Only sat there miserably, and half in thought.

His wounds only hurt more now than since he had woken up, what he wouldn't give for a drink right now. That's all he wanted, something to distract him from, well, everything. Even if it was a very bad idea in his condition.

At that moment the Russian came back into the room carrying two glasses and a bottle in his hands. If he noticed the untouched stew he didn't say anything and leant against the wall silently, observing George who stared back at him. For the first time the Englishman took in the Russian's appearance.  
For some reason he reminded George a little of Sirius but much older. His hair was greying and untidy, hanging down about his shoulders, he was clean shaven oddly enough and his skin was pale. His eyes, so dark they were almost black, seemed to bore into whatever he looked at, as though he could see straight through.

After what seemed like an hour of staring but in reality was probably only a few minutes, the Russian spoke.  
"How did you get it?"

It was quite plain what Dominío was referring to but George still took his time to reply. How much could he feel certain to reveal?

"I was given it." He finally settled on.

Dominío glared at him "Don't lie to me, boy. I vant to know how, you, almost a child…"

"I'm not a kid, I'm twenty." George interrupted; he hated it when people treated him like a kid.

"How you got this from the most secure place it could haf been."

George tilted his head and adjusted his position on the couch, his legs slipping out from under him.  
"Sorry, what?"

The much older wizard took some time before he replied, plainly thinking the same thing George had been thinking earlier. How much could he say?  
Evidently he made up his mind to say it, deciding George was genuine.

"How you got this from Hogvarts."

xxxXxxx

**WHEREABOUTS OF WACKY WEASLEY?  
Rita Skeeter Reports.**

_Dearest Readers,  
As you know, I personally have taken it upon myself to make an attempt to console the grieving families in regards to their devastating losses as a result of the final Battle in May of last year.  
One of my top priorities was the grieving George Weasley, identical twin to the late Frederick Weasley who seemed to be losing his own mind as a result of the loss of his dear brother and be hollowing himself into a dark place indeed._

_Indeed, this wizard, growing rapidly more insane with each passing day, physically attacked yours truly in the middle of popular Wizarding district, Diagon Alley. He claimed that I had even stolen something precious from him personally. Of course this was an idea conjured from his own mind, his own desperate plea for attention now that his twin is dead._

_Just last night, I myself intended to check up and express my utter concern for this poor boy. It was soon discovered he was not to be found in his shop or in his own home, naturally you all think that he was to be found with his family, being nursed back to physical and mental health. However, upon paying a visit to the old, crumbling Weasley home, I soon personally discovered that poor George was not there._

_Has he run away? Well, dear readers, that is of course what I dearly hoped. And quickly Mary Weasley informed me that George's own family did not know of his whereabouts but were quite assured he was perfectly safe. I, feeling nothing but pity for the grieving family, hesitantly inquired as to whether they were quite sure that George was indeed safe. Immediately the eyes of Mary and husband Arnold filled with pools of tears, along with those of George's elder brother Percival who was quick to make the first honest comment of the family and admitted that George had once before attempted suicide._

_Of course this comment shocked and astounded me at the time, but after later consideration I came to realise that the pathetic, mourning man I met much earlier seemed not far off from killing himself. Undoubtedly the two Weasley twins were inseparable and to be confronted with life alone would have been overwhelming._

_To be completely honest, after all, I tell nothing but the truth. And though it truly upsets me to state what is apparent to all but the grieving family, George Weasley has clearly ended his own life._

_**Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet.**_

Bill threw the paper across the room in a rage, sending it crashing into the window with a clatter, he was furious. How DARE that woman? How dare she report that his brother was dead, how dare she report and publish that he had killed himself! A fact which the eldest Weasley knew to be untrue, but really, how could even Rita Skeeter twist something so horribly? What had his family really said to make her suddenly report such a thing?  
"Percy…" he muttered under his breath just as his very pregnant and very grumpy wife waddled into the living room. Bill had taken leave from Gringotts now with the baby so close to arriving.

"What eez going on, Bill? I 'eard a crash."

He couldn't even bring himself to explain only retrieved the Prophet and tossed it onto an armchair shaking his head slowly. Percy must have said something. Or else somehow George's wrists had sprung up into the conversation…which would probably have been courtesy of Percy anyway.

He grunted, firmly deciding to go and pay a visit to the family that day.

xxxXxxx

"Hogwarts? Are you serious? You knew it was there?" George could have gaped, and would have had he had less tact.

"Do not play dumb vith me, boy. This bottle vas under the greatest security I could provide it, I vant to know how you could haf gotten it!"

The greatest security he could provide it? Well that must have been back when Dumbledore at least taught at Hogwarts. Why else would a Russian send something like that to a school?

"I was given it." George insisted. After all, it was the truth technically. Fred had left it for him to return.

Dominío scrutinized the young wizard fiercely. Perhaps he was telling the truth, but that did not solve anything, there was not nearly enough information for him to completely trust the boy. He lowered himself onto the overstuffed armchair across from George.  
"Tell me exactly how and vhere you got this bottle."

George virtually locked his jaw shut. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Fred at the moment which would be necessary if he were to tell the truth.

Dominío's eyes darkened "If you cannot answer…"

"My brother nicked it years ago. Happy? We went to Hogwarts."

The Russian nodded slowly "Your brother? Then you ought not to be the vun here. Forgif me but I do not believe that anyvun could haf taken this from a place under the protection ov Albus Dumbledore."

So he had known, Dumbledore was there…but Fred had taken it from McGonagall? George shifted his gaze to the flickering orange flames again. It seemed like Dumbledore to have left it in McGonagall's keep; after all, he must have known for years what would happen eventually. There was a reason that man had been one of the most brilliant minds of the Wizarding world.

He hugged the blankly closer around him and took the proffered glass from Dominío's extended hand. He would have to prove that he was genuine, it seemed Dominío was.

The Russian, knowing full well George would have to go on took a gulp of the liquid in his glass and waited.

"He didn't take it from Dumbledore, that's why. Nicked it from one of our professors when we were twelve…" George began half hesitantly; he was going to have to talk about Fred. "My brother died last year…left me a letter asking me to take it back because he still felt awful about stealing it."  
He said this so quietly he barely heard himself and immediately his gaze shifted to the rug on the floor.

Apparently the Russian did hear him and grunted. The lad was English, he probably had been a student there, and there was really no reason for him to lie now. After all, Demetrius had witnessed and prevented the attempted murder of this boy, and he had had the bottle concealed in his coat.

"I can go now, right?"

Dominío looked up, the boy still was not looking at him and sat hunched up, peering at the floor over the rim of his glass. "Vhat?"

"I can go…I gave you the bottle back. Now I can go home."

The Russian stared at him like he was stupid "Are you a fool? They know vhere I am now, you haf led them vight to me." He downed his drink and poured another "This does not stand vun hope unless there are two of us." There was no reply so he continued "How do you think that shifter found you? Somevun tipped it off, as they hav been doing I am sure for a good portion of your…quvest. Did you ever show anyvun this bottle?"

George stared at him, come to think of it…how_ had _that shapeshifter found him? He didn't think he'd shown anyone…no…wait. He had.

"In Russia…I was trying to find you, had to get information. The bloke said he was a squib…I showed him but that's all."

Dominío leaned back into his seat "Vell. There you hav it. That is who tipped off that shapeshifter."

No…no it couldn't have been…it must have been that Greek boy, the shapeshifter had claimed to be his sister and he had conveniently found George upon his arrival in the country. But still, someone had to have tipped him off.  
George finally lifted the glass to his lips and drank, it was certainly alcohol but mercifully not vodka.  
"Still don't see why I have to stay."

"It must be destroyed. For all I know, they could be on their vay here vight now. But it vill take more than two. For they will hav known I now hav the bottle back, boy!"

George inwardly groaned, he just wanted to go home, to sleep in a bed, to eat something besides stew, to wallow in his depression and memories of Fred alone.  
"Why don't you just destroy it yourself?"

"The potion contained vill only be rendered useless vhen mixed vith a specific ingredient. Vun I do not have."

"But apparently I am not strong enough to do anything." In a grand gesture George dropped the blanket, gesturing at his battered, cut, stitched up and pale torso.

"You vill be, they vill bide their time I am sure. Least they vill not come today at any rate."

George was out of excuses and snapped bitterly "If you had of left me to die, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"YOU vouldn't be! You hav no idea of the real power of vhat lies inside that bottle." Dominío was on his feet now and, before George could blink, he was right before his nose.  
"If you vanted to die, you could hav refused to vake. You are simply a hurt, insensitive, selfish brat." He growled. "You cannot not do anything more cowardly."

George stared at him, a single orb of salty water trickled from his forehead and he wiped the sweat off his head. Was it really cowardly to want to be with his twin again?

"Tell me what it does."

Dominío, still in his position on the floor got up slowly. The boy needed to know…  
Slowly he walked around to the doorway and turned around.  
"That potion? It can be of devastating effect in the wrong hands…"

xxxXxxx

WOoot! Done, here you go guys! Enjoy.


	32. Comfort

**I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorrrryyyyy! I'm not dead and I know that that is the only acceptable excuse for me not to have updated for so long. But…see the thing is, I'm not sure how many chapters are left but there won't be many and the thing is….I really don't want to let this story go, I love George too much and I love writing it and I love you guys! That is my excuse, I did not want to accept that this is the beginning of the end. I'M SORRY!**

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Thirty- Two**

**Comfort**

_I don't wanna live, I don't wanna breathe  
'Less I feel you next to me  
You take the pain I feel_

_I hate living without you_  
_Dead wrong to ever doubt you_  
_But my demons lay in waiting_  
_Tempting me away_

_**Comatose- Skillet**_

xxxXxxx

Dominío stopped at the doorway, his eyes drilling into the back of the ginger head as he swilled the liquid around in his glass.  
"It can be of devastating effect in the wrong hands. Only if the user knows exactly vhat it vill do can they use it. But the conseqvences may be severe."

"So why'd you make it?" George didn't turn his head and only wrapped the blanket closer again to him.

"It could be used for overvhelming good if the conseqvences are understood, and that vas how I intended it." The Russian took a step back into the room and placed a hand on the wall to support himself.  
"For if mixed vith a certain ingredient and drunk…" he took the bottle from its place on a low shelf and turned it in long, thin fingers "This potion has the ability to vemove a being entirely from history."

This got George's attention and he straightened at once, turning his head to the side and gazing at Dominío with his peripheral vision. His jaw opened ever so slightly and remained that way. Something so powerful must have taken much of Demetrius Dominío's younger life to create, it was no wonder people would want to use it for evil.

"Are you serious?" George twisted his head to actually look at Dominío who only nodded gravely.

"Clearly that is vhy that vant it and vhy it vill take two of us to lose them."

George swallowed the liquid in his glass and blinked "Come again?"

Dominío stared at him like he was stupid "They vill know you haf it. They vill soon be avare of the failure of the shifter in procuring the bottle and they vill assume you haf given it to me." He began "That is the opportunity ve haf to remain vun step ahead of them."

George didn't need to ask how; he just wanted to be free of the bottle. Not to be a part of a diversion, even if it would work, they'd be back after him as soon as they figured out the Russian didn't have it.  
He shook his head "No way. I just want to get rid of it. I just want to go home, mate."

A loud thud sounded as Dominío placed the bottle none-too-gently atop its shelf. "You are far too veak to bother attempting to travel anyvay, boy! Look at yourself!"

"Can't you just drink it? That'll get rid of it pretty quick."

"It cannot be drunk unless mixed vith said ingredient. I had taken precautions." And with that Dominío took the bottle, removed its stopper with a few words muttered under his breath and immediately held it upside down. None of the liquid left the bottle, the aqua contents simply swilled a little and adjusted to its new position.

The Weasley blinked and sighed as the stopper was replaced. He didn't have a choice did he? Clearly he did not.

"What does it need to be mixed with?" He muttered in resignation. "This doesn't mean I'll do it, I'm too weak anyway remember?"  
He could have sworn the Russian's lips twisted up into a smirk for an instant and couldn't help but feel as though the Russian had planned it all, knowing full well what George would say and when.

"I can fix you at a moment's notice, at least almost."

George's suspicions were confirmed, he had been set up to agree to this the whole time and he glared darkly at the Russian.  
"Just tell me the damn ingredients."

Dominío smirked again and walked closer to the fire. "To…activate it, it must be mixed vith the venom of a doxy."

George blinked "Doxy venom? Are you serious?" He had been expecting something a little…well…rarer, he and Fred used doxy venom in several of their Skiving Snackboxes sweets.

"Completely serious I assure you." Dominío glared at him and continued "To render the potion forever useless, you must add an ingredient far more difficult to come by, not to mention expensive…" He paused, as if to add effect to his words.

George only raised an eyebrow and waited impatiently.

"A portion of dragon skin."

Yes…yes there was no denying that dragon skin was far more difficult to come by.  
George sighed "So you expect me to find some dragon skin any old place, huh? That's not particularly likely to ha-oh hell…"  
He had just realised…he and Fred had dragon skin coats. Of course he hadn't taken that with him, it had been so expensive after all, but…he had access to dragon skin alright.

The Russian raised an eyebrow "It seems you know how to get it."

Damn him, damn him and his uncanny perception. George scowled darkly, oh how joyful this day was turning out to be. He really didn't want to do it. But then…he reasoned with himself, he would be able to go home.

"I don't want to do it."

The Russian was suddenly leering over him, looking particularly tall from George's position on the couch. Although really, they hardly differed in height.

"You do realise vhat is likely to happen if you do not?" He said in a low voice "I am not as young as I vas, I cannot keep this safe alone. Not now that you hav led them almost to my door." He brought up again, blaming George.  
"You need to finish vhat you started."  
With that the Russian sharply hit George around the head and left the room.

George swore vulgarly at the Russian under his breath and rubbed his head, gingerly touching the bandage over the place an ear had once been. The bandage was wet with blood and it quite amazed George that an ear could bleed for so long…though…that whack to his head probably had something to do with it.

This quite reminded George of a child being reprimanded and left alone to 'think about what he's done'…it had happened to the twins enough times for their mother's entire speech to be completely drilled, word for word, into their heads permanently. He shook his head, there was no way George Weasley was going to allow himself to get all soppy and start 'fondly reminiscing'…any reminiscing he would do would more likely make him feel depressed than happy.

xxxXxxx

"Percival Ignatius Weasley!" Bill roared loudly, bursting unceremoniously into his office with such force that it took Percy by complete surprise and almost sent him toppling from his chair.

"William, you can't just barge into my o-"

Bill threw down the copy of Skeeters article onto the desk, smearing the undried ink over the unfinished paperwork.  
"Guess you haven't been reading the paper." He snarled "What is this Percy? What is this? Why did you tell that woman George had…" he lowered his voice marginally and finished "attempted suicide?"

The younger brother, whose quick eyes had read the article with an unknown speed, gaped and as an overwhelming surge of guilt washed over him he looked up despairingly to Bill.  
"I-I didn't mean to…she made it sound like she-"

"AND YOU BELIEVED HER?" Bill did not think he was even capable of lowering his voice by this time he'd never been so furious "PERCY! THIS IS THE STUPIDEST BLOODY THING YOU HAVE EVER DONE. EVER, OF ALL TIME!"  
Really, it was one matter when he let slip to Mum that George had been, in his words, 'kidnapped by Russians.' It was quite another when he let slip to **Rita Skeeter, **that George had, in one description or another, cut his wrists.

Percy apprehensively leaned over in his chair to look behind Bill, several faces were poking through the doorway and more than one person had stopped in the corridor to observe the scene with rapt interest. Calmly he stood and closed the door, losing his composure as soon as he had done so and all but collapsing against the wood. Behind him Bill had snatched up the paper again, purely for something to crush in his fist.

"Bill…I'm sorry alright? I'm sorry…I didn't know…"

He scoffed "Bull. How could you not know she would publish something? It's kind of common sense."

Percy turned slowly, he thought he heard a hitch in his brother's voice and, realising his own eyes were wet, opened his mouth to speak the words that would cut right to Bill's heart.

"What if she's right?"

The physically scarred Weasley widened his blue eyes in shock "What did you say?"

"I-I know we don't want to believe that she is. And I know it's an awful thing to think…but Bill, we have to be realistic here. Have you received anymore word from him?"

The curse-breaker shook his head slowly, trying to still his trembling chin.

Percy looked him in the eyes for the first time then and sighed "Well then, isn't there a very real possibility that George is…" a lump formed in his throat and he couldn't finish his sentence.

Bill Weasley looked down, the Prophet in his hand was almost unrecognizable from its former shape.  
"I should go…" he muttered and without another word to his brother, turned, lay a hand on the door handle and left the office.

Percival sighed and closed the door behind Bill, dragging his feet back around his desk he slumped down in his chair, absentmindedly examining the ink smeared paperwork.

xxxXxxx

The Russian left him alone for a good few hours and, though he had no sense of time whatsoever, George took the opportunity to grab a few hours of sleep, despite having just slept for a good long while. What he achieved was barely sleep however and more of a light drifting in and out of the realm of consciousness. He blinked awake and gave up on all attempts, pulling himself into a sitting position and sliding onto the floor.  
He sighed, not able to remember any kind of dreaming. He was this close to going home, there really wasn't anything stopping him after all. Except his stupid conscience.  
"Fred? You gonna talk to me?" He muttered aloud.  
He could almost feel his twin's apprehension, and that alone satisfied him, at least he knew Fred was still there with him.  
"I can't do it. I can't do any more…I'm done." He muttered, resigning. He'd brought the bottle this far hadn't he? Shouldn't that be enough? George was drained, not only physically but mentally too, he was terribly tired, but simultaneously not enough to sleep.

_You can, Georgie-boy. You have to._

George looked up from his knees, his cheeks were suddenly wet and it took him a moment to realise that he was crying. He shook his head and continued speaking aloud.  
"I can't Fred. I'm all but dead now…"

_Yeah you can. You've gotta do it. I know you can._

He sniffed slightly and attributed his tears to his total resignation. But all the same, his twin's words helped. Particularly the last four words. _I know you can._  
Somehow, because of those four simple words, George found the strength to pull himself back onto the couch. Somehow he regained a little more heart. Fred comforted him. Fred believed in him and that was all he needed.

"Do you often talk to yourself, boy?" Unnoticed by George, Dominío had re-entered the small room.

George turned around slowly, gritted his jaw and looked the Russian directly in the eye.

"I'll do it."


	33. Storage

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

**Storage**

_Where are you and I'm so sorry  
I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight  
I need somebody and always  
This sick strange darkness comes creeping on so haunting every time,_

_Don't waste your time on me your already the voice inside my head  
Don't waste your time on me your already the voice inside my head_

_I miss you, miss you  
__**I Miss You- Blink 182**_

xxxXxxx

"Vhy so glum, boy?" the Russian arched an eyebrow, pausing in the act of resewing George's stiches "You may go home after all."

George pushed back the hair tickling the upper half of his ear, looked up and nodded slowly. He winced and jerked away, a foolish thing to do and he cried out in pain as the needle tore his flesh.  
Dominío glared at him and realigned the needle.

"They are probably alveady on their vay here. But we have an advantage…" he paused, biting the end of the thread and tying it off. He pulled back and retrieved a bottle of unmarked liquid from seemingly nowhere, holding it out to George.  
"They vill not know you are here. Vith any luck at all, they think you are dead."

The man in question took the bottle, sniffed the open top and muttered under his breath "With any luck at all, I would be dead."  
He took a small sip, the liquid felt refreshingly cool on his tongue and tasted strangely like cherries. He felt distinctly better physically and rolled his shoulders to test. It didn't hurt as it had done and he stretched his arms. Still no pain.

"I thought that vould help." The Russian grunted taking the bottle back. "Now you know vhat you must do, yes?" He cracked his neck and heaved himself to his feet "You must render this potion useless and allow whomever is hunting it to get it, they vill not be avare that it is now useless."

George scrunched up his eyes, he could still see one very big flaw with this plan.  
"What about when they figure out it IS useless? What then?"

"By then I vill have found myself another place, they vill not find me again…" he paused at the fireplace and added as an afterthought "And neither vill annoying English boys."

"Isn't it gonna look a bit suspicious if I walk up to them and say 'Here you go, take it!'?" George, becoming a bit more vocal now, asked sceptically.

Dominío looked at him and sighed "I did not say this vould be painless for you."

As George reached over for his pack to dig out a shirt the Russian left the room, returning a moment later with what looked like a coin in his hand.

"You cannot Apparate vithin the enchantments I have set, but this vill bring you back here." He held it out and George who was tugging his right arm through the red plaid shirt which clashed terribly with his hair and beginning to button it.

The redhead dropped his hands from the middle button and took the offered object, it was circular and flat like a coin and made of some kind of metal, on it was an engraving of some kind, a sort of swirling symbol.

"Flick it into the air and it vill bring you back." He explained, a grim sort of smile on the Russian's face. "Now, you must go soon, you vill leave the enchantments about vun hundred feet from my door."

George nodded his understanding and tucked the coin into the pocket of his shirt, completely forgetting the button the rest of the buttons, he tugged on a coat.

"How soon?"

Dominío placed a hand on the boy's shoulder as he stood "Now."

xxxXxxx

"Oh…I hate to do this! It's not right, Ronnie…at the very least he should be here…"

"We gotta do it, Mum. For everyone's sake." The youngest Weasley son looked sadly at his mother and laid a hand on the doorhandle of the bedroom in the flat. Behind both of them Hermione was examining the empty bottle of ink that lay on its side on the rectangular table. Even it was covered in dust from months upon months of remaining untouched.

Ron pushed the door open and for a moment the three of them stood in the doorway, it felt like an intrusion, as though they were committing some heinous crime by disturbing what had remained untouched for so long.

The twin beds both stood cold and frozen, the dark crimson covers coated with a light layer of dust. One unmade and one made, but both equally as lonesome.

"This was Fred's…"Molly whimpered quietly, her hand glazing over the pillow of the unmade bed as, very slowly, she set it down, drawing it away quickly.

"Come on, Mum." Ron sighed, drawing open one of the small drawers of the nightstand beside Fred's bed.

Hermione had conjured a box at his feet and was beginning to wonder privately if they should clean out not only Fred's things but George's too…

They found a wide variety of things in Fred's drawers ranging from old and stale sweets to a broken Decoy Detonator and all things in-between. Everything taken from the drawers was transferred to the box and though Molly was initially completely against it she soon found herself greatly curious in the contents as they moved drawer to drawer.

Hermione produced what appeared to be half a torn and very fading photograph from the depths, all that was left of the featured girl was half of a familiar face which moved in and out of the confines of the torn picture.  
"What's this? Is that-" She squinted as Ron plucked it from her fingers.

"I think that's Angelina…" He winced "That was a bad break up that one was…not surprised this is torn. Fred was extremely grumpy for weeks, they really hated each other by the end I think…what actually happened, Mum?"

Molly bit her lip and furrowed her already creased brow. "I don't really know, honestly, I just know they fought a lot."

xxxXxxx

"_I told you! She WORKS for us- GEEZ, WOMAN!"_

_George winced and raised his eyes to the ceiling. He had perched himself awkwardly on the railing of the floor of the shop directly below the flat, this was it this time, he was sure of it. They would actually break up this time. _

"_Ange! It's VERITY, honestly! How you possibly think I have a thing for her?"_

"_You think I don't know the look in your eyes? It's disgusting, Fred! Anyone would think you could see straight through her shirt!"_

"_Well I could! That's beside the point, I wasn't looking on purpose it was just the way my eyes were pointing!"_

_The sound of a hand striking flesh resounded surprisingly loudly, loud enough for George to hear in any case, a door slammed somewhere above his head. He could remember that day quite clearly actually, Verity had not taken into account that white shirts, when wet, were very see through. Of course, in her defence she was not to know that some klutz would knock and shatter a shelf of love potions._

"_-perverted, inconsiderate, immature, stupid…shall I go on?"_

"_You ain't so perfect yourself you know? At least I didn't snog anyone else!"_

_George winced again…yeah…Fred should not have said that. You don't tell a girl she's not perfect. Not like that._

_Angelina protested something inaudible but Fred's next words were not missed._

"_HE'S MY BROTHER!"_

"_I thought he you was YOU!"_

"_I don't care! That just makes it worse! You should be able to tell us apart!"_

_Something smashed above George's head and Fred swore loudly. George lowered his gaze from the ceiling at the sound of footsteps and hurriedly pretended to be busy restocking a shelf by picking up and putting down the same products in their original places.  
Not a moment later Angelina came storming down the stairs, brushing past George forcibly. Fred appeared on the landing, scowling horribly._

_His now ex-girlfriend paused on the last step and whirled around, George saw no trace of the tears he had expected.  
"Don't expect me back, Fred!"_

"_Not even for a moment! I'm not exactly crying here am I?" He shouted back. Good riddance, was all he could think as he ducked a curse that flew alarming close to his head.  
"Bloody psycho…" He muttered so that she couldn't hear._

_George stared wide eyed as the girl lowered her wand and whipped around, storming from the shop and slamming the door none too gently behind her._

_There was a very tense silence for a moment before George turned his head to look at his brother who simply stood there fuming, his shirt untucked and hair tousled, fragments of glass evident in it._

"_Fred?" George asked hesitantly, one foot on the stairs just below his twin._

_Fred grunted and looked at him, even in the little lighting George could see the redness on his cheek._

"_You okay, mate?"_

_He snorted and touched his cheek "She can hit, I'll tell you that."_

_George dropped down beside his twin and lifted his hand to brush it through Fred's hair, withdrawing a particularly large piece of glass.  
"Think it's for real this time, hey? What'd she throw?"_

"_Picture frame." Fred glared and lifted his fingers to his forehead, withdrawing them and examining the little blood there. "Corner of it got me...you better believe it's over this time."_

"_Dude really, you were kinda asking for that though." George half smirked, tapping Fred's cheek. He sighed.  
"Hey, you know when Angelina kissed me…you know I didn't…"_

"_Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it, George, I'm not mad at you. It wasn't your fault." Fred looked at him and smiled wearily._

_They sat in silence for several minutes, Fred swinging his legs over the ledge of the landing, his chin resting on the lower part of the rail._

_His brother sighed and nudged his twin "Hey, Fred? Wanna go to the Leaky Cauldron, have a drink, I'll shout ya?"_

_At the word 'drink' Fred seemed to perk up immediately.  
"I ain't saying no to that…just a sec, one thing I gotta do first."_

_Suspicious, George followed his brother back into the flat. Fred made his way straight to the bedroom, plucked up a photograph from his nightstand, looked at it once then tore it into very uneven pieces and tossed them into a drawer._

_He turned, smirking "Alright, how about that drink then?"_

xxxXxxx

It took a good hour to go through Fred's nightstand; Molly fighting to save the oddest items so iconically Fred.

"Closet?" Ron looked up, placing the last item into the box, a small box that contained a little of what looked suspiciously like wartcap powder. "Mum?"

Molly had a hand to her mouth and was peering fondly at something in her hands. She slowly held it out to Ron and Hermione.  
"We can't get rid of this."

It was a photograph, of a three year old Fred and George fast asleep on their bed. On the back, in Fred's familiar scrawl, were the words "Happy Birthday, Georgie."

Ron could barely say anything and Hermione squeezed his shoulder gently, wordlessly he handed it back to Molly and stood to make his way over to the door where the twins' brooms rested. He picked one up and twirled it in his hands.

"I think this is his…"

The Cleansweep Five went beside the box immediately and, at risk of disposing of George's clothes and not in fact Fred's, they avoided the closet for the time.

Molly looked sadly down at the bed she was sitting on and stood up slowly. "We have to make it..."

Wordlessly she took hold of the covers and drew them up to the pillow trying to blink away tears.

"Here it is!" Ron turned around, holding up a watch that the witches immediately recognised as the watch all wizards ought to receive on their seventeenth birthday, on the back were the initials F.W.

Molly closed her eyes and held out her hand to take the watch, without looking she dropped it into the box.

They continued in this manner for another fifteen minutes before a voice behind them made them Hermione scream in shock.

"What are you doing?"


	34. Home

**Can I just say….NHJFKDHKHBJBHDSKJJLKXSB Y#T^*FD! Deathly Hallows part 2! How AMAZING was it guys? I just watched it for the second time and I am DEFINITELY seeing it a third time...and fourth...and as many times as I can afford to!  
In all…siriusness though….wow…it was better than I could ever have hoped for…I cried literally the rest of the movie after Snape's death….that just set me up and then to watch Fred die and see George crying like that just SHATTERED me /3 Neville's speech….wow, how amazing that guy really is…and how adorable is his crush on Luna!  
For those who think this is the end and Harry Potter is over…it isn't. Harry Potter will NEVER be over until we personally decide it is, and I know that I will NEVER choose that. Harry Potter is, and always will be, that "Little ball of light touching my heart." 3 3 **

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Thirty-Four**

**Home**

_And I've lost who I am, (I'm waiting)  
and I can't understand (and fading)  
Why my heart is so broken, (and holding)  
rejecting your love, (love) without, (onto these tears)  
love gone wrong; lifeless words carry on (I am crying)  
But I know, all I know is that the end's beginning (I'm dying tonight)  
who I am from the start, (I'm waiting)  
take me home to my heart (and fading)_

_Let me go and I will run, (and holding)_  
_I will not be silent, (silent) all this time (onto these tears)_  
_spent in vain; wasted years wasted gain (I am crying)_  
_All is lost but hope remains and this war's not over (I'm dying tonight)_  
_There's a light, there's a sun (I'm waiting...)_  
_taking all these shattered ones_  
_To the place we belong (I am waiting...)_  
_and his love will conquer all_

_**Shattered- Trading Yesterday**_

xxxXxxx

**Dedication time! This chapter, I dedicate to Marimo Swan. Thanks so much for that review, that really made my week, honestly! You're awesome! Cookies for you and for all!**

xxxXxxx

"What are you doing?"

Hermione screamed slightly in surprise and whirled around, her jaw dropping as she set eyes on the person who stood in the doorway.

Molly shrieked, half in hysterics and she flew from the bed to wrap her arms firmly around her son.  
"Georgie! Oh my son, my boy! You've come home at last!"  
Tears were pouring uncontrollably and she had no intention of letting him go.

George tried to lift his arms and return his mother's embrace, to little avail, his eyes darted from her to Ron and Hermione, both of whom had tears in their own eyes, to the box containing what appeared to be Fred's things.

"George…" Ron's bit his lip, glanced at Hermione and then, in one swift movement, the both of them had joined Mrs Weasley, welcoming George home.

"Mum, please!" His voice rose ever so slightly and he tried to detach himself, finally stepping backwards.  
"What's going on?"

It was Hermione who answered, feeling slightly ashamed now.  
"We-we're…well, George…it has to be done…"

"No, it doesn't." He snapped, pushing through them to get to the box, shedding his coat and pack. As he bent down his half unbuttoned shirt slipped, revealing a very misshapen and damaged shoulder.

Ron cringed at the sight of the missing portion of flesh and it brought to mind all the hundreds of possibilities of what his brother had been doing for so many months. Never once had they really considered that George was in any real, _danger_.

"George…what happened to your shoulder?"

George stiffened and tugged his shirt back up over his shoulder, he turned around slowly, Fred's watch in his hand.  
"Nothing. Nothing bad." He answered quietly, trying not to think of the teeth that had been responsible for such an injury.

"Nothing bad? Half of it is _missing_?"

Molly gasped, looking properly at her son for the first time. He looked awful…dead even! That was the only way to describe his appearance accurately, dead. He was far paler than was normal which accentuated his freckles and hair all the more, he was thinner too. His unbuttoned shirt gave a clear impression of the amount of damage he had sustained. A line of stiches stretched up the centre of his chest and bruises and scars were obvious simply on the small expanse of skin exposed, they could barely imagine how bad a condition the rest of him was in. The worst of the scars stretched potentially lethally along his neck.  
A fresh bandage was wrapped tightly around his head, and the left side where his ear had once been was beginning to bloody again. But worst of all George's appearance was probably his eyes, sunken and surrounded by dark circles. They had lost their electrically blue shade and all light and shine was gone in favour of a very dull shade, he looked for all the world like a man who had lost all sense of life, a walking corpse.

"Oh my boy…" Molly whimpered and drew him close again. "What happened to you?"

"I don't really want to talk about it." Even his voice had changed; he spoke so much softer now.

"You look…dead." Ron looked his brother up and down, knowing there was more damage than they could see.

"That's the word, Ron. Dead. You've no idea."

Ron closed the distance and took George's shoulders in his hands, gripping them firmly.  
"I know. So tell us."

George averted his eyes, looking even sadder as he did so "I can't. I really can't, I barely know who I am anymore."

"Then let us help you!" Hermione insisted looking up.

He turned the watch over in his hands and looked back up to his family.  
"Please. Just let me be, there's something I have to do."

"No. No absolutely not!" Molly snapped firmly "George, it has been months! Months we haven't seen you! You're coming home with us, today and I am NOT losing my son again!"

His next action was very odd to the other three in the room, he crossed to the closet, opened it, withdrew his wand made a motion which they could not see and slipped something up his sleeve.

"I know, Mum, believe me I know." He smiled grimly "And I will come home. Just…I have to do this…alright?"

He looked again at Fred's watch and slipped it into his pocket, his fingers brushing the coin. A shiver shot up his spine, so many secrets, so much he could never tell.  
The shop. Doxy venom was in the shop.

"…Alright…" Very reluctantly and slowly, his mother stepped away, her face devastated and joyful simultaneously.

"George!" Hermione cried suddenly as he made to leave the room. Plucking something from Molly's grip, she held the photograph out. "Here."

He took it silently and trailed his fingers over the children in the picture as a wave of tenderness struck him.

"Turn it over…"

He did so, looking at Hermione for a second and then back to the back of the object. He read the words several times before they sunk in. Fred had never given him this, he would definitely have remembered.

"Thank you." He looked back up at the younger witch and forced what was the closest thing to a real smile he had managed in a while. With that he turned and left the room, the rather larger object in his other hand hidden from their view.

xxxXxxx

It was not hard to locate a vial of doxy venom in the basement, the twins kept hoards of the stuff after all.  
Only then, after he retrieved the vial, did George really understand why he had bothered to get the item that would activate and not destroy the potion. It could remove a being from history, right? It was an opportunity he would only get once.  
If he, George, could remove, he shuddered at the thought, Fred's…killer… that would mean Fred would still be alive, wouldn't it?

He moved over to the upturned crate he had placed the bottle upon and picked it up, holding it and the vial of venom beside one another. It would be so easy. One little tip, one little thought… Augustus Rookwood had caused the explosion he knew had killed his twin…he could definitely do it.

_Don't…oh Merlin, please don't…_

"Why shouldn't I?" George murmured aloud, his eyes glazing over.

_You have no idea what could happen….it doesn't guarantee a thing! You could be signing your own death warrant, you could die!_

"I don't care, Fred…I'll take that chance."

_I could have died any number of other ways, George! Don't be selfish!_

George's hands trembled and he lowered the objects, his jaw mimicking his hands and trembling too.  
"Fred. Don't do this to me…I'm nothing anymore, literally!"

_You have to destroy it!_

Almost without his noticing, George slipped the corner of his dragon skin coat from his sleeve.

_Do it. Please. I know you can._

That was all George needed, in a movement he slowly took up the bottle and, with trembling fingers unstoppered it. The aqua liquid lapped the sides of its container gently, such immense potential and power lay in that liquid and it took so little to bring it forth.

He lifted the dragon skin, his hand shaking so violently he could barely see where he was holding it.

_George…_

He blinked away his tears for a moment. Perspective, he needed perspective and he seemed to have found it now.  
Bending the skin slightly he slipped it into the very top of the bottle, one tap and it would fall into the liquid. One little tap…

He didn't even remember making the motion, the next thing he noticed was the potion letting out a hiss, it bubbled momentarily and then shimmered and returned to its still state. There was no indication it had been tampered with whatsoever.

_You did it. See?_

George half smiled and replaced the stopper. "Let's hope it worked."

xxxXxxx

George landed on his back with a thud; thoroughly winded he dropped his head back into the snow. The coin had worked alright and he vaguely recognised this place as just within the enchantments surrounding Dominío's cabin. A loud crashing brought him back to reality and he scrambled to his feet, clutching at his chest pocket to ensure the bottle was still there.

He spun to face the direction the crash had come from and not a moment later witnessed a great surge of flame shoot above a tree. He only then became aware that he was already running, drawing his wand from the back of his jeans.

He stumbled around the corner, skidding to a halt in the snow. The cabin was in flames and George searched frantically for any sign of movement inside. For an instant, just an instant he could have sworn he saw someone beckoning to him from the shattered window. The figure vanished a second later and George was sure he saw a streak of green shoot across.

He had to get inside there if this was to be at all convincing. Slowly he crossed the snow and ducked beneath the windowsill, wand at the ready. A cry of "Crucio!" sounded from inside in a voice that was vaguely familiar.

Ducking beneath a beam in the open front door that looked as though it would fall at any moment, George slipped inside, already feeling his face beginning to burn. He squinted through the smoke and managed to make out a figure about his height standing over a hunched figure on the floor just inside the small living room that had played host to George not long prior.

"Oi!" He shouted "You don't want him!"

It worked, the standing figure whipped around and George promptly shot a curse through the smoke, it barely missed and he darted back outside into the snow.

He blinked as the other man appeared in the doorway, he did recognise him. It was the Greek boy…Alex he had called himself. Whether that was actually his name or not, George did not know. Although he looked older, much older than George remembered.

George was walking backwards now, his arms spread wide as if to announce a challenge.

"I'm the one you want! Come at me bro!" He inwardly blinked at himself, he hadn't spoken like that for so long, that was certainly something the old George would have said, not this depressed, angry new one.

His opponent sneered and cracked his neck in a familiar twitch. With a flick of his wrist he sent a jet of orange at George who deflected it.

"Just you is it? That all they sent?" George arched an eyebrow, managing a smirk.

"Don't underestimate me, kid!" 'Alex' shouted in perfect English, all trace of a Greek accent gone.

"That goes double for you." George quipped back and sent a jinx that would have had his opponent tap dancing had it struck successfully.

"That's ironic, isn't it?"

George blinked, the man had disappeared and he spun around to find him a few feet away.

"Nothing's going to be 'double' for you at all anymore, after all."

George scowled darkly, finally getting a chance to examine the face up close, not only did he look much older, the features were progressively more familiar and George was positive he had seen this man before and not in Greece.

He raised his wand to point it directly at the man's throat.  
"I could kill you right now."

He dismissed the wand as though George was a child pointing a stick at a bully, this man couldn't kill. Not intentionally, he didn't have it in him.

In a single movement he slipped a foot behind the Weasley's ankle and tripped him, sending him sprawling onto his back and simultaneously wrestling George's wand from his grasp and tossing it somewhere to his right.

George made to kick up but his opponent stood firmly on his foot then, bending it in a way that feet ought not to be bent. Biting his lip, he rolled, escaping from his opponent's trap and trying to stagger upright.

"Crucio!"

He dropped back down and screamed in agony, his limbs contorting horribly as a burst of white hot pain seared up his spine and through his chest.

"Weak, can't even take a little torture?"

It had happened before, this was certainly not the first time George had suffered the Cruciatus curse but it most certainly did not become more bearable. Dominío had warned him it would not be painless.

'Convincing…dammit…'

He screamed again and bit his lip, drawing blood. He twisted his head enough to see up the sleeve of his attacker's left arm, there was definitely something on it.

"I thought you were all sent to Azkaban…" He spat viciously attempting to stand only to be forced back down by means of a heavy booted foot on his back.

"Not quite all of us it seems, hey, boy?" The man laughed loudly "And _you_ have something I want. So…"  
George writhed again under the impact of another torture curse.  
"You can either give it to me like a good lad, or die slower."

Conveniently having placed the bottle in his top pocket George lifted himself onto his elbows, leaning forward in a show of trying to get up, the object in question slipped from its precariously placed location and landed with a small thud in the snow.

This did not go unnoticed by the Death Eater who at once kicked George to the side, his eyes gleaming.  
"Then again…"

George gasped and made a mad grab for the bottle, his hand closing around it just before those of the Death Eater who snarled in response and sent his foot crashing down on George's fingers.  
The victim of such an action yelped in pain and withdrew his hand hurriedly.

"There…you foolish little bloodtraitor…" the voice above him sneered maliciously, plucking the bottle from the snow and examining it closely. There was not need to worry of it being a duplicate, that was not possible with such a thing.

"One more thing before I kill you, I think."

George's eyes widened as the man flicked his wand, making George's sleeve whisk up his arm to his elbow. Before he knew what was happening the point of the ebony wand had stabbed the very white flesh of his arm and he was screaming, this pain was perhaps worse than the Cruciatus curse had been. It felt as though his entire arm was burning from the inside outwards and he could barely turn his head to see what was in fact happening. There, carved eternally into his flesh from his own blood, was a single word "bloodtraitor".

George whimpered rather pathetically, a noise he would always despise himself for making as the pain faded away and the point of the wand was moved to aim directly between his eyes. Now. He had to do it now.

The man laughed and sneered "I promise, this won't hurt a bit…"

"Yeah…but this will!" And with those words, the younger man kicked upwards as hard as he could and, as his attacker doubled over in agony, George hurled the small, open box he had discreetly slipped into his pocket back in the flat and opened just a moment ago without his opponent's seeing.

The wartcap powder exploded from its container and a good portion of it blew straight into the face of the Death Eater, he howled terribly and clawed at his face a hard, crusty skin forming over his flesh, sealing an eye shut. Wherever it touched, the powder affected, leaving the man resembling more of a rock than a human.

George, who had scampered out of the way just in time, snatched up the wand that had been dropped and sprinted over to where his own lay. Grabbing that he almost grinned to himself and staggered back toward the remnants of the cottage to find Dominío and tell him he had succeeded.

The flames were extinguished predominantly and George apprehensively stepped into the home.  
"Oi! You there?"

There was no reply and he walked slowly and carefully from room to room, the few there were, finding no trace of the man who once lived there.

_You did it. You can go home now, Georgie. To stay…_

George actually smiled to himself as he ducked beneath the low hanging doorframe, casting a glance to where the Death Eater was. Or had been at least, he was gone now and George was quite sure the useless potion was too.

Apparently the wards and protective enchantments had clearly been broken and he took the implication to mean he could now Apparate directly out.

xxxXxxx

For the first time in…months really, George peered into the mirror on the back of the door of his bedroom, finally taking true account of his appearance. Now, alongside all other injuries his skin was blackened and filthy from the exposure to smoke. He was, thankfully, still clean shaven. That was one thing George did take care of in his absence. Although his hair was rather longer than he remembered it and well and truly brushed the lower part of his neck. He slowly peeled off the bandage around his head. His old wound had stopped bleeding now, thankfully.  
He tugged down his sleeve to hide the ugly, horrible word carved there and took a long glance around his room. The box of Fred's possessions still lay there on the floor and George slowly picked it up and placed it, and the broom, on Fred's bed.

He was home, but there was still one more thing he needed to do.

xxxXxxx

"He's what?" Bill's jaw dropped ungracefully, revealing a mouthful of very rare steak and receiving a glare from both his mother and his wife.

Ron, across the table nodded enthusiastically.  
"He really is back! Looks bloody terrible, you'd think he'd been in a war mind you, but he's back! Said he'd come home after he finished something. Can't be long now."

"Oh zat eez why we are 'ere, then?" Fleur looked at her husband and tapped his chin impatiently.

Molly nodded and beamed at Percy who looked much the same as Bill presently.  
"Oh…my boy has come home!" She practically shrieked for the fifth time in an hour, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron as she sat back down.

On the opposite end of the table, Harry lifted his eyes from his food, his fork clattering to his plate.  
"Is that…"

Unanimously the entire family and Hermione turned their heads to the kitchen doorway and the bedraggled and wounded figure standing there.

"I'm home…"

xxxXxxx

**Don't worry! I'm not done yet! I have another chapter in me that needs writing! Thank you, all of you for being so amazing and wonderful and dedicated, I really can't tell you how thankful I am.  
But enough of this for now! Because until the final chapter is written, this tale is not yet over! But for now, sleeeeppppppp…..where are you, my friend? And keep the reviews coming guys :P It FEEDS my soullllllll…..*cough cough* you heard nothing.**


	35. Reality

**Double or Nothing**

**Chapter Thirty- Five**

**Reality**

_I'll be your beacon through the darkest nights  
I'll be the wings that guide your broken flight  
I'll be your shelter through the raging storm  
And I will love you 'till forever comes_

_Goodbye's the saddest word I'll ever hear_  
_Goodbye's the last time I will hold you near_  
_Someday you'll say that word and I will cry_  
_It'll break my heart to hear you say goodbye_

_'Till we meet again…_  
_Until then…_  
_Goodbye_

_**Goodbye's the Saddest Word- Celine Dion**_

**Dedication: This chapter, and entire story, is dedicated to….you, if you have stuck with George until the very end 3**

xxxXxxx

George stared into the fire, letting the warmth of the flames wash over him. He was perched on the centre of the couch in the living room, surrounded by his family. His father on one side and his mother on the other, rubbing his back affectionately and stroking his hair.

He was shivering and at the moment was very grateful for the blanket over his shoulders. He had failed to remember that it would be freezing in the snow and, in amongst all the action and hurrying he hadn't even felt the cold much. He did now, it had come rushing at him in one single wave.

Percy was sitting in the overstuffed armchair across from him and Ron perched himself on the arm, Harry and Hermione on the floor in front of them. Someone, George guessed Percy started to speak but was interrupted as Fleur floated in, her belly preceding the rest of her, Bill behind her balancing the heavy tray of cocoa.

"Here, sweetheart…" Molly held out a mug to George who smiled slightly and took it, allowing the warmth of the vessel to warm his hands.

Once all the cocoa had been accepted and Bill had seated himself on an ottoman, Fleur on his lap, Arthur cleared his throat.  
"Are you sure you don't want to tell us, Georgie?"

His son looked up tiredly and shook his head "I'm sorry, Dad. I really…I can't."

"It's alright…you don't have to, my boy…we're just glad you're home…" Molly sniffled slightly and held her son close, squeezing his arm gently.

George hissed and pulled away, regretting doing so at once, but he couldn't hide that wound forever, slowly he pushed up his right sleeve, exposing the skin of his arm.

Hermione gasped, clapping her hand to her mouth and self-consciously touching her own arm whereupon was carved the filthy word "mudblood".

Molly snatched up his arm at once "Oh my boy! Who did this to you?"

"Not to mention everything else…" Ron muttered quietly.

George winced and gently pulled his arm back, taking his mug in both hands once again.  
"I don't know. I honestly don't."

He hid his face in his cocoa for a moment and lowered the mug slowly, shrugging the blanket further and closer around him.

"Look, I'm alright, really. I know I don't look it…" His eyes met Bill's for a moment and he continued "But I'm alright. I just don't want to talk about anything-"

There was a knock on the door then that shattered the atmosphere in the room. Arthur got up to answer it, though reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire.  
The rest of the family lapsed back into silence and all seemed intently focused upon something on either their mug or the cocoa therein. That was, until a steely voice that belonged to Arthur sounded from the front door.

xxxXxxx

"What are you doing here? Get out of my house, and take him with you!"  
Arthur gritted his jaw firmly at the two people that greeted him, one a woman with a crocodile skin handbag clasped in her talon-like nails, the other a tall, grey haired main.

"Barnabus Cuffe, Mr Weasley, editor for the Daily Prophet." A deep and unfamiliar voice replied. "I have come personally to offer my condolences…"

"I shouldn't have to tell you what a real honour this is, I assure you." Rita crooned, her plastic like lips curling upwards into what was more a sneer than anything else.

"Condolences? What on earth for?" Arthur frowned, glaring at Skeeter all the while.

The editor looked rather taken aback at this and spluttered in shock "Wh-Why? Because of the loss of your son of course! Terrible news really, absolutely awful!"

Arthur stared at him for several seconds before clueing in and sighing, seeing a perfect opportunity.  
"Ah yes of course…" he stood to the side to beckon them in. "Won't you come into the living room?"

Rita Skeeter brushed past him with a smug smirk on her face that she was clearly trying to pass off as pity.

Molly shot up from her position on the couch as the party entered the room.  
"What is _she_ doing here?" She demanded of her husband who winked at her and nodded at George on the couch.

The editor had removed his hat and coat and looked around solemnly at all the Weasleys.  
"I must express my deepest sympathies…you all must have been through some very hard times indeed…" His green eyes alighted on each of the Weasleys in turn before passing George, looking at Molly and then doing a grand double take.

"I'm sorry, but what was it you said you were here for?" The balding, red haired man beamed, clapping a hand on the other wizard's shoulder.

The man whirled around to stare at his reporter.  
"You published a story that said he was dead!"

George blinked and gaped rather untactfully "You said I was dead? Who told you I was dead?"

Rita Skeeter pointed a deep red fingernail accusingly at Percy.  
"He told me…" She scowled "I'll print a retraction…"

"You bet your life you will!" Her boss glared at her, drawing himself up to his full height and turning back to the Weasleys "Imagine, printing a story claiming wrongly that a boy is dead! How much pain you might have caused!"

The look on Rita Skeeter's face was priceless and even George, who was staring at Percy, couldn't help but snort with laughter. Hermione had literally doubled over in a fit of giggles much to the shock of her very awkward boyfriend.

"I said I'll print a retraction!" Rita snapped, slightly fearful of the editor, he did after all have the power to end her job.

"And as soon as it has printed, Skeeter…" Cuffe threatened "Get your things together and LEAVE my paper!"

"You're firing me?" At the rather annoyed look on her boss' face Skeeter wisely closed her mouth, looking positively furious. With that she turned and whirled from the room in a flurry of crimson.

Barnabus Cuffe sighed and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.  
"I do apologize…she will be dealt with accordingly." He turned back to George who was still gaping in shock and nodded.

Grasping Arthur's hand firmly, the editor of the Daily Prophet smiled grimly.  
"Pleasure, I'm sure. Now, I must leave I'm afraid."  
Bowing respectfully to Molly, he turned and swept from the home in a sweep of emerald robes, leaving the front door open wide behind him.

The room was silent for several moments but for Hermione's attempts to stifle her giggles, to little avail.

George was still in disbelief about the whole ordeal and finally shifted his eyes from Percy.  
"So…what just happened?"

xxxXxxx

He hit the pillow with a mercifully soft _thud_ and sighed. Finally, after all these long months, he was back in his own soft, warm bed after having spent so long in the bath he thought for sure he would either drown or turn into a merman.

George closed his eyes for but a moment and groaned to himself. A sudden thought struck him and he, rather reluctantly, rolled from the bed and padded barefoot over to the mirror on the side of the bedroom door.  
He leaned in and examined his face in the dim light. His eyes had still not, and were still far from regaining their lost light. Slowly he trailed a finger down the long scar that reached from the underside of his chin to his collarbone. Now his skin was clean and smooth he could really see the extent of the damage, bruises covered his face, the worst of which was the yellowing one alongside his right eye. Looking down, George gently pressed on the stiches, wincing slightly; his skin was far more purple, black and yellow than white now and down his side the faint evidence of his bullet wound was still visible. That was to say nothing of the vast amount of scars over him. He knew he would carry many of those, including those on his arm and neck, for the rest of his life and then some.

George's dim eyes shifted to the right of the mirror to the two pictures that, with the aid of a permanent sticking charm, he had put up. One was a photograph of the twins fast asleep and three years old, one of them slowly sticking a thumb in his mouth. The other photograph was one of Fred, eighteen years old and grinning sleepily up over a mug of what was presumably coffee.  
Steadily George allowed his fingers to trail over each photograph in turn, smiling softly and genuinely to himself. Finally, dropping his hand he turned around, looking firmly at the wooden floor.

"Fred? Are you here?" He wasn't really expecting a reply and so was taken aback when one did come.

_I never left you._

George allowed another genuine, albeit small, smile to cross his features.

"You'll stay with me then?"

_You know I will._

Fred's voice was shaky, as though he were about to cry and yet George could hear the smile in his tone.

Letting his gaze wander temptingly back to his bed, George collapsed onto the mattress, wriggled beneath the covers and was asleep in moments.

xxxXxxx

After what felt like only minutes of sleep he tumbled out of bed, striking the floor with a groan and jolting awake.  
He crawled out from the mess of blankets on his knees and stared, bleary eyed through the small, curtained window, he had slept for hours, it was pitch black now as opposed to the golden pink rays of sunset that had been there when he went to sleep.  
George didn't even remember dreaming. He had though, but they were hardly dreams. More like memories.  
His sleep had been plagued with fleeting flashes of his life with Fred.  
Their first day at Hogwarts. Stealing the Marauders Map from Filch. Their very first Quidditch game. Bewitching Percy's Head Boy badge. George taking the blame for Fred when their Father had discovered the giant spider that was formerly Ron's teddy bear. Fred smuggling his twin a serving of pudding when George was forbidden it. Arguing over Angelina and the Yule Ball. Opening the shop for the first time. Fred's breakup with Angelina. Himself lying half unconscious on a hospital bed in St Mungos with Fred slumped, fast asleep in the chair beside his bed with dark rings around his eyes. Losing his ear….losing Fred.

George groaned and staggered, only half awake into the bathroom, running the cold tap in the basin. Splashing the icy water over his face he shivered as it trickled over his chest.

Slightly more awake he walked, altogether heavily, back to the bedroom. He dropped onto the end of his bed and hid his face in his hands.

"Oh Merlin, Fred…I can't even sleep properly."  
He waited, but no reply came. "Boy…you do have selective hearing…"

George sighed and reached down to the foot of his bed where he had dropped his pack. Pulling it up to him he set it on his knees and reached inside, grasping around for what he searched for.  
He found it and withdrew his hand, the envelope in his grip. Silently he opened the unmarked envelope and slipped the letter out…

_Georgie…_

xxxXxxx

_Just our secret…our last secret._

_I love you, little brother…_

_Fred_

George dropped the letter into his lap and sniffed, he had done it, he had done what Fred had asked him to and all that evolved from that. He couldn't help but wonder if Fred really meant what he had written, would he have survived as long as George had their places been reversed? Would he have become a complete recluse as George had for some time, dependent on alcohol to get him through the next day?

He stopped those thoughts as quickly as they came to him. That was not helping much. Unable to help himself, George read the letter again, and then again a third time, this time reading every word with a kind of sadness. The last thing he had from Fred, there would be no more.

He returned the letter to its home in the envelope and carefully hid it away in his nightstand. No one would take that from him.

On an impulse, and though he did not know why, George pulled a bottle of ink from the drawer, along with a quill and parchment. With a new determination about him he grabbed a stray book lying on the floor entitled "_From Egg to Inferno: a Dragon-Keeper's Guide"_. Charlie had given it to Fred as a birthday present a few years back, the night after it had been promptly tossed on the floor and not moved since.

Balancing the book on his lap to pose as a desk for the time, George spread the parchment over it, dipped his quill in the levitating bottle of ink and poised his hand to write.

Write what? What was he even doing? George had no idea whatsoever and without realizing it, his hand began to move of its own accord.

_Freddie,_

_I did it, Freddie…I finished what you asked me to and more besides. I'm home now, thankfully, and I don't think I'll ever leave my bed again after this letter. I can't sleep though, not without dreaming either horrible things or…well…other things._

_I don't even know why I'm writing this. It's not like you'll ever read it…and if you're reading over my shoulder at the moment, stop it._

_I don't for a moment believe a word of what Dad, Bill or even you say, I'm not ever going to be alright. Not really._

_Blimey, I'll tell you something. Even if you were alive we wouldn't look the same anymore, and I know that the last time I said that, you moved out. But it really is true this time, you should see._

_Skeeter got the sack tonight, or last night, whenever it was I don't even have any kind of perception of time anymore. Apparently Percy told her I was dead, which is rubbish and I don't have any idea whatever gave him that impression._

_Hell…what am I doing, Fred? Why am I telling you all this? It's not like you don't know…stop reading over my shoulder…I know you are. I think I just need something to say. Hell, I feel horrible, which is saying something now. Least I'm not puking again, ey? Haha…that was pathetic.  
I miss you man, and if you were here you'd be telling me to shut the hell up and stop being so soppy, but it's true. I do miss you, terribly so._

_I just know you're up there shouting and screaming at me to live for the both of us. But how can I do that, Fred? I may be doing better but I'm still only one half, I'll never get any better than that. You gotta help me._

_Just please, don't be like the rest of the family and force me to be happy and smile all the time, in time maybe I will learn to laugh again, but the reality is, I'm never going to be alright again. We both know that. Because every day, I'll see your face just by looking in the mirror... and I'll hear your voice just by using my own. I'll always ask myself, why you instead of me?_

_That's never going to stop, so don't try and make it._

_I'll always miss you, Fred. But there is one thing that bothers me…when you speak to me…are you really there? Or is it all in my head?_

_I love you big brother…_

_George._

He dropped the quill and wiped away the tears that were freely falling down his cheeks and onto the parchment. Reading over the letter slowly, George could barely even read parts of it, his tears had smudged the ink terribly in places.

He stopped half way through and got up in a rush, kicking his chair over in the hurry. Trying to choke back the sobs he didn't want to let come, George hurried back into the bathroom. Running the water he clenched the sides of the basin as the sobs fought their way through his defences. Great heaving, wracking sobs to the extent he could barely breathe.

He splashed his face which helped less than he thought and it was a good fifteen minutes before he could compose himself enough to let go of the basin, finally shutting off the running water.

Finally George looked up into the mirror, seeing nothing but Fred's distraught face. At the risk of sobbing again he left the small bathroom in a hurry and gingerly picked up his letter from the table, folding it twice over each other.

Slowly, almost surreally he walked heavily back into their bedroom, crossing directly to Fred's bed and sat down slowly upon the freshly made covers. His hand was trembling violently as he slowly reached over and slipped the parchment beneath the dusty pillow. He had done it.

And, as he slid from the bed onto the floor, burying his head in his arms, Fred spoke.

_Of course this is all happening in your head, George! But that doesn't mean I'm not real._

xxxXxxx

_So Ms Rowling,  
Here is a song (story) I wrote for you,  
Cause I'm grateful for all that you've taught me,  
And inspired me to do,  
You showed me good triumphs over evil,  
And you taught the whole world how to read,  
So thank you Ms J.K Rowling…  
Thank you so much for Harry…  
__**For Jo- Riddle TM**_

**That's it….you guys…have been invaluable to be, absolutely invaluable. If it weren't for many of you this story would not have gone beyond a oneshot. I love you all so, so much 3  
I'm incredibly sad that Double or Nothing is over, it took me so long to let George go and I actually haven't at all. I grew so very, very attached to him and to the whole Weasley family, particularly Bill. I will most definitely write more and more, I have already began on my next project, a series of oneshots so keep your eyes peeled for that! I won't tell you more yet though!**

**Thanks guys! Really. 3 3 3**


	36. Authors Note

So, I had the urge to read the first and the last chapters of Double or Nothing last night. So I did and my writing had changed so much from the beginning of it to the end, and probably has continued to change since then. So I'm going back through it now and re-reading and editing the chapters to repost on here, so any new notifications will just be reposts and better renditions of the former chapters.

I'm not pressuring any of you to re-read at all, it's really more than enough for me that you read it once, especially those who inspired me to continue it from a one-shot in the first place! So thank you all so, so much for your support since the beginning and in any other pieces of my writing and I hope that I'll have some new things for you soon!


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